


The Baratheon Patient

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, Baelish is creepy, Cersei is cray-cray, Consensual Kink, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Desk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I already mentioned the daddy issues right?, I feel like I use the previous tag a lot, Joffrey is a jerk, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, May/December Relationship, Non-Consensual Kissing, Nurse/Patient, Nurses, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phone Sex, Self-Indulgent, Sorry Not Sorry, Spanking, Tiny bit of Angst, Where Is the Plot?, boner angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-06 04:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 110,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10325849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: Stannis keeps scaring all his nurses away. Robert asks Ned for help. He sends Sansa.





	1. The New Nurse

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story is basically self-indulgent and very light on the plot. I worked on this whenever I needed a break from the more plot-heavy _Inconvenient King_ series. I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Tommyginger sent me a gif that inspired a lot of the things that happen in the later chapters. I won't post the gif since it will spoil things, but maybe I'll dig it up when the time comes. Thanks, Tommy! ♥
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters. I just play with them and laugh maniacally as I imagine the horrified look on GRRM's face.

Stannis rolled his eyes as the third nurse Robert had hired this week left his room in tears. Where was Robert finding these women? They were absolutely _useless._

“What happened?” Robert asked some ten minutes later. “How did you manage to upset this one?”

“She wanted to insert a catheter rather than help me get to the toilet,” Stannis grumbled. “And she kept messing about with my bedcovers.”

Robert winced at the mention of a catheter. “Couldn’t you just have said no to the catheter and asked her to stop adjusting your covers?”

“That’s what I did,” Stannis said, clenching his jaw stubbornly. “It’s not my fault the clucking hen couldn’t take a bit of honest criticism.”

Robert sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll call the agency and see if they can’t send someone new.”

Stannis nodded and watched as Robert left his sick room. It was a very luxurious room. The best guest room in Robert’s house. He would be staying in it for a few more weeks, but he was already thoroughly sick of the pictures on the walls and the furniture. He knew it was all quite tasteful and expensive, but he would much rather be anywhere else in the world. It was impossible, however, as he had a broken leg, two broken hands, a broken forearm, several fractured ribs and a broken collarbone. He would be recovering in this room for a good long while.

At first he had been staying in the finest hospital in King’s Landing, but there was not much the doctors could do for him after putting him in casts. He just needed time. Stannis had wanted to go home to Dragonstone and recuperate there, but as he needed a lot of care and help in order to feed himself, answer nature’s call, and do anything that otherwise required him to move or use his hands, it was impossible for him to stay by himself in his house on his miserable island. No nurse was willing to brave a daily ferry ride to the island in order to take care of him, and finding a live-in nurse had proved impossible, too.

No one liked going to Dragonstone Island.

As it was Robert’s fault that Stannis had all these broken bones in the first place, his brother had offered Stannis a place to stay while he recovered. It was much easier to get hired help in King’s Landing, and Robert’s villa was certainly large enough to accommodate a guest or two. (Or fifty.)

It was more than half an hour before Robert returned, and Stannis was actually glad to see him. The nurse hadn’t helped him to the toilet before she had left, and he really needed to go.

Maybe it would be easier for everyone if Stannis submitted to a catheter, but he had not forgotten how painful it had been to have the one they had inserted at the hospital removed, so he was determined not to repeat the experience. He would much rather endure the indignity of being helped to the toilet and then sitting down to do all his business. Despite the casts on his hands he was able to help himself for the most part. (He hoped no one at work would ever find out about the bidet, but it was highly doubtful that Robert would be able to keep his mouth shut.)

Being helpless did not suit Stannis. Being helpless because Robert was an _idiot_ suited him even less. He had never been as irritable in his life, but he really didn’t think it was too much to ask to have a competent nurse around to make his life bearable.

“You’ve been blacklisted at the agency,” Robert explained once Stannis was back in bed. “No new nurses for you.”

Stannis scowled. “Find another agency.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Robert said with a sigh. “Maybe Myrcella can help you until I figure something out.”

Myrcella was very sweet, but she was not of much use to Stannis as she was a very pampered young lady who had no concept of what it was to do any kind of work. Since she was his niece he couldn’t yell at her when she did something that displeased him, and at the end of the day he was exhausted from grinding his teeth and biting his tongue.

“Tell me you found a decent nurse,” Stannis snapped as soon as Robert reappeared in his doorway several hours later. Myrcella was long gone, and Stannis’ stomach rumbled and growled. His niece had tried to feed him, but she had done such a bad job of it that he had asked her to stop long before he was full.

“Well, not a nurse,” Robert said, scratching the back of his head, “but I found someone who is willing to come and live at the house and help out.”

“Live at the house?” Stannis furrowed his brow.

“Yes, it wouldn’t make sense for her to travel back and forth from home since she lives in Winterfell.”

 _Winterfell?_ Stannis grimaced. “You asked Ned Stark for help?” Of course Robert had asked Ned Stark for help. That’s what Robert _always_ did.

“He has a daughter who is on summer holiday until she goes back to Vale University this fall. Ned said she could do with a some extra money and that she’s done this sort of work before. She always volunteers at the hospital in Winterfell, apparently.”

Stannis tried to remember Ned’s children. The only girl he could recall had been running around and chasing a dog, shouting madly the whole time. It had given him a headache.

“Out of the question,” he bit out.

“It’s her or no one, Stannis,” Robert said in an exasperated, stubborn tone.

Stannis clenched his jaw. Perhaps his niece could continue to help. She was marginally better than no one. “Myrcella - “ 

“Myrcella has other things to do.”

“You could -”

“I have work.”

Stannis glared at Robert. _What work?_ he thought, feeling very bitter. Robert hardly ever did any _real_ work. His brothers both had that in common.

“This is not up for debate. She’ll be here tomorrow.” Robert was glaring right back at Stannis, and looming over his bed.

“Fine,” Stannis snapped, “but she had better not be as useless as the nurses you’ve hired so far.”

Robert snorted. “They haven’t been useless. You’re just impossible to please.” With that he left Stannis’ room. 

Stannis wished he could throw something after him.

***

Sansa could not believe it. A whole summer in King’s Landing. Better yet, a whole summer at Robert Baratheon’s fabulous villa. She would have to take care of Robert’s brother, but he probably wouldn’t require _constant_ attention, so she would probably be able to hang out by the pool in her spare time and try to catch Joffrey’s eye.

It was almost too good to be true, and what made it even better was the fact that she’d actually be paid to do this. She liked volunteering at the hospital - reading to the chronically ill was very rewarding - but it would be nice to actually earn a bit of pocket money.

She was a bit disappointed when it was Robert and not Joffrey who picked her up at the train station, but she shook the feeling off quickly. It had been silly of her to hope that Joffrey would do something like that. Of course it was Robert’s responsibility.

“So - er - Sansa… did you sleep well on the train?” Robert said once they were in his car, driving towards the most expensive neighbourhood in the city in the bright morning sun.

“Yes, thank you.” It had taken her a while to fall asleep as she had been so excited, but eventually she had drifted off, and she hadn’t stirred until the sun had risen.

“Oh, I should be thanking you! Thank you for coming and thank you for doing this.”

“It’s no problem,” she said, feeling her heart beat a little more quickly at the thought of all the time she would be able to spend with Joffrey.

“Actually,” Robert said, sounding tired, “it _is_ a problem. My brother is a complete nightmare, so you should prepare yourself.”

Sansa blinked at Robert, but he was looking at the road and didn’t notice. How could he call his own brother a nightmare? Sansa could imagine calling Arya a nightmare in the middle of a fight, but she would try to be nicer than that if she were talking to anyone outside the family. Except maybe Jeyne. Jeyne understood what a nightmare Arya could sometimes be.

“Oh?” Sansa said, unable to think of a polite way to answer Robert.

“He’s had six different nurses. The one who lasted the longest managed four days.”

 _What does he do to them?_ Sansa wondered, feeling her stomach shrink in on itself.

“You have to just ignore the things he says,” Robert went on, “try to follow his instruction to the letter, and never assume something he asks you to do can be skipped or done in a way that is less time consuming or ridiculous.”

Sansa furrowed her brow. “Ridiculous?”

Robert huffed out an irritated breath. “He fired one nurse for microwaving the water for his tea.”

Sansa felt even more confused. Having properly boiled water did not seem like a ridiculous demand to her. Just the thought of using microwaved water to make tea made her wrinkle her nose.

“I think I’ll be able to manage following his instructions,” Sansa said slowly, “but could you tell me a little more about what I’ll be expected to do?”

“Well, he’s mostly confined to bed and he can’t use his hands for much of anything. He needs help getting back and forth from the john, though he does take care of himself in there -- don’t ask how. He needs help eating and drinking, he likes to read, but he can’t really turn the pages, he likes to be taken on walks in his wheelchair once a day -”

“What about bathing?” Sansa interjected.

“He can’t really go in the bath or the shower due to his casts,” Robert said, his tone apologetic, “so it would be good if you’d be willing to help him - er - freshen up. I’ve been helping him with that for the most part, but he’s really not the best patient.”

Sansa nodded. “Before Old Nan passed away I used to help her wash her hair. She broke her hip when she was ninety and couldn’t really get in and out of a bathtub. Showers were hard for her, too.”

Robert’s face lit up. “Oh, so you have experience with that sort of thing! Splendid!”

Sansa nodded again, feeling proud and pleased with Robert’s happy reaction. It was almost like she was already succeeding at her job.

They were silent through the next two intersections.

“Robert?” she asked after a while, wondering if she should ask the question that had been plaguing her for a while now. 

“Mm?”

She took a deep breath. “What happened to Stannis? Why is he all broken?”

Robert went bright red. “It was just an accident,” he said in a rush, “just one of those unfortunate things.”

That wasn’t really a proper answer, but Sansa sensed that Robert wasn’t willing to talk about it. “Oh. Um, all right,” she said, watching as Robert became less tense.

At the house, Robert led her to a beautiful, spacious bedroom with a view over the pool in the backyard, and he even carried her bag in for her. The furniture was all painted white, and the walls were all done in soothing pastel colours. The feel of the space was therefore quite delicate and feminine, and Sansa felt right at home.

Robert pointed to a device on the nightstand. “That thing will light up and beep if Stannis needs you. He has a remote with a button that he can press to call for help. ”

Sansa nodded, and promised herself that she would keep the device with her at all times.

“Take your time settling in, but it would be great if you could report to Stannis’ room at around ten,” Robert said before leaving her to unpack.

Promptly at ten Sansa knocked on the door Robert had pointed out before he had taken her to her own room.

“Enter.” The voice that spoke was deep, masculine and _very_ grumpy.

Sansa took a deep breath and opened the door. Stannis’ room seemed to be a lot more richly appointed than hers, but she decided that she still liked her own room better. The colours in here were darker, the furniture larger and more expensive-looking, and the atmosphere was decidedly more… aggressive.

But maybe it just felt that way because Stannis was glaring at her.

Stannis Baratheon was all harsh angles and furrowed brows, but Sansa didn’t let herself stare.

“Hello,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her so she wouldn’t be tempted to play with her hair or fidget. “I’m Sansa Stark.”

“I’m starving,” Stannis bit out, a scowl on his face. “Why has it taken you this long to get in here? I heard Robert take you to your room half an hour ago.”

Sansa’s face fell and her stomach clenched up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Did you press the button for help? My device didn’t beep.”

Stannis’ scowl deepened until he looked thunderous, so Sansa quickly decided to drop the matter of the call button. “I’ll go get you something to eat right away,” she said instead, hoping to appease him.

“Why are you still in here, then?” Stannis narrowed his eyes, glaring even more intensely. “Go.”

Sansa felt herself flush as she nodded and hurried from the room. If she had known Stannis hadn’t been fed she wouldn’t have unpacked before checking in on him.

She hurried as much as she could, but finding the kitchen took her a while, and then the cook didn’t have any food waiting. She waited impatiently for the cook to whip up some scrambled eggs and make up a tray for Stannis, and almost tripped on her way from the cavernous kitchen back to the patient in her care because she was trying to walk as fast as she could.

“I’m so sorry it took so long,” she said as soon as she elbowed the door open, “the cook didn’t have anything ready.”

“Stop apologising, girl,” Stannis said, a hint of a growl in his voice, “I have no use for such things. Just help me eat.”

Stannis’ brusque manner was not at all what Sansa was used to, but she was determined to do well at this job, so she pretended not to feel hurt. She was doing her best and all he did was bark at her like a servant. It was really rude.

It took Sansa a minute to figure out the remote for the bed, but eventually Stannis’ snippy instructions allowed her to raise him into a seated position so that she’d be able to feed him.

“How are the eggs?” Sansa asked after Stannis had devoured a few bites.

“Tolerable.”

Sansa nodded and continued to feed him according to his signals, trying her best to make him feel at ease. It was very difficult as she felt so jumpy.

She looked at him as she fed him, trying to be subtle about it. He was not really the most handsome man she had ever seen - he had nothing on Joffrey - but his eyes were a very pretty and unusual shade of dark blue, and there was something hyper masculine about his square jaw and the stubble that covered it. There were fine lines on his forehead and around his eyes, and deeper lines around his mouth and between his eyebrows. He was a clearly a frowner, not a smiler, and judging by the lines and his receding hairline, he was nearly her father’s age. That meant that Robert and Stannis couldn’t have been born very far apart.

It was clear to Sansa that Stannis hadn’t been washed properly for a while. His hair, though short, was greasy and his skin seemed clammy. There was also a bit of a smell. It was nothing very terrible, just sweat that had been left to sit for a little longer than it should have. But Sansa didn’t understand; why hadn’t anyone given him a proper wash? She had been hoping that she would have at least a day with Stannis to establish a bit of a rapport before she did something as intimate as wash him, but she couldn’t leave him like this for any longer than absolutely necessary in good conscience.

When Stannis was full - after eating surprisingly little - Sansa started by clearing the tray with the leftovers from the room. When she returned, Stannis seemed surprised.

“Did you leave something in here?” he asked, looking around.

“No, I thought... “ Sansa bit her lip, hoping that Stannis wouldn’t get upset with her for what she was about to suggest. “I thought I would help you freshen up. If you want?”

Stannis blinked at her, and to Sansa’s surprise she noticed a red flush creep up from his neck to his face.

“Robert usually helps me with that, Miss Stark,” he said after a short awkward silence.

Sansa nodded. In a careful tone of voice she asked, “when was the last time he helped you?”

Stannis swallowed and furrowed his brow. “It’s been a few days.”

“I have experience with this sort of thing,” Sansa said, sensing that he needed to be reassured that she was competent. “I’ll be careful.”

Stannis clenched his jaw and looked like he was about to say something stubborn and rude.

“Please,” she said, “I know this can’t be easy for you. You hardly know me, and I hardly know you. This is an odd situation. But I’m here to help you and to see to your comfort, and I think you’ll be more comfortable after you’ve had a wash.”

He blew out a breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he gave her a curt nod. “Fine.”

Sansa swallowed and tried to organise her thoughts. “All right. How do you usually get into your wheelchair?” It would be easier to wash him away from bed, and she could ask to have the sheets changed while she was busy with Stannis.

“I can stand on my unbroken leg,” Stannis said, sounding tired and irritated. “Just bring the chair to the bedside and help me balance.”

It was easier than Sansa thought it would be, and she was grateful for it. It was good to know that she needn’t worry about the daily walks Robert had mentioned.

Sansa wheeled Stannis into the en suite and asked him who usually took care of changing the bed.

“Didn’t Robert tell you anything, girl?” Stannis snapped. “The housekeeper.”

“I’m sorry,” Sansa said, trying to ignore Stannis’ foul temper. “He hadn’t managed to tell me that yet. How should I get in touch with her? Or him?”

“Phone. Nightstand. Dial eight-zero-one.”

Sansa made the call and hurried back to the en suite, not wishing to leave Stannis on his own for too long.

“All right, I need a washbasin, washcloths, soap, shampoo and conditioner,” she said, trying to keep her voice cheerful and purposeful.

“Conditioner?” Stannis looked at her like she was being absolutely absurd.

“I assumed you’d want a shave?” Sansa said, looking pointedly at the stubble on his face. “Conditioner is the best thing to use to soften the skin and the hairs before shaving.”

Stannis pressed his lips together, but didn’t say anything. He jerked his head at a large cupboard, and Sansa understood that she should search it for the items she had listed.

Once she had found everything she would need, and once she had filled the washbasin with warm soapy water, she turned to look at Stannis. He was a tall, powerfully built man, but there was something about him that made Sansa think of a majestic building that had caved in on itself. He was pale, his pyjamas were too big for him, and there was something angry and bitter about every line of his face.

“I’m going to start by unbuttoning your night shirt. Is that okay?” She didn’t want to presume she was allowed, and she wanted him to know what she was planning to do before she started doing anything.

Another glare, and an impatient jerk of his head was the only answer she got.

She steeled herself and unbuttoned the loose shirt. She understood why he was wearing pyjamas that were too big when the time came to ease the sleeves over his casts.

“Are there fresh pyjamas for you to wear in here?” Sansa asked before deciding what to do with the night shirt in her hands.

“Bedroom,” Stannis muttered, not meeting her eyes now that his chest was bare.

She nodded and did her best not to stare at him. He obviously liked to work out. A lot. That much was obvious even though her view was a little impeded by his chest hair. He had plenty of it, just like her father, but unlike her father, he didn’t have any soft bits around the middle. Everything looked quite… hard. It had been easier not to gawp when she had been busy undressing him, but now she needed to remind herself that she was supposed to be doing something.

 _I don’t even like chest hair,_ she told herself, and wondered whether Joffrey had any.

“Okay, I’m going to start with your torso, and then -” She cut herself off, feeling her face heat up. _Try to be professional,_ she scolded herself. “Would you like me to help with…” She looked at his groin and then at the ceiling. Gods, she couldn’t say even _say_ it.

“No,” Stannis said sharply. “I can take care of that myself.”

 _Not very well with your hands in those casts,_ she thought, but Sansa remembered Robert’s words about how Stannis managed to take care of himself when he needed to use the toilet. He’d told her not to ask. She decided to follow Robert’s advice.

“All right then,” she said brightly, trying to will her face to go back to a normal colour. A glimpse in the bathroom’s mirror revealed that she was not having much luck. She charged ahead regardless. “Like I said, I’ll start with your torso, then I’ll wash your hair and give you a shave. Would you like to soak your foot while I work?” She would have offered to soak both feet, but one was obviously in a cast, so that was impossible.

“Yes.” His voice was terse and a little strained. He clearly hated this. Every part of this.

Sansa helped Stannis place his uninjured foot in the washbasin full of soapy water, rolling up the leg of his pyjama bottoms so the fabric wouldn’t get wet.

Feeling like she ought to hurry, Sansa filled the sink with more warm soapy water and got to work. It wasn’t really a chore to get him wet with foamy washcloths, and watch as his dark body hair got plastered to his skin, but he was so tense and uncomfortable that she couldn’t help but feel tense and uncomfortable, too. He was almost vibrating with tension by the time she asked him to lift his arms so that she’d be able to clean under them and apply deodorant.

“There,” she said when she finished with his upper body, “I think it’s time for a shave now.”

“Have you ever shaved a man before, Miss Stark?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sansa felt herself blush. “No,” she admitted, “but I have steady hands and I will do it exactly the way you tell me to.”

Stannis’ Adam’s apple bobbed up and down at that, but he nodded in agreement.

“I usually use a straight razor, but you’ll probably kill me with one of those,” he said. “There should be a plastic monstrosity in that shaving kit over there.”

Sansa found one of those plastic razors that had several blades all stacked together. She had never quite understood how adding more and more blades to a razor was supposed to help, but according to the adverts it was the bee’s knees.

She picked up a towel to wrap Stannis in, both to keep him warm, preserve his modesty, and to catch any water, conditioner, or stubble that might drip down from his face as she shaved him. She turned his chair so that he would be facing one of the many mirrors in the posh en suite, and told herself that she would be fine. She had shaved her bikini area in the past -- before she had discovered waxing. How much harder could shaving a face be?

“First warm water, then conditioner, and then I’ll start shaving, okay?”

“Fine.”

Sansa had dated a few guys in the past. She’d had sex. She had spent days cuddled up in bed, doing nothing but talking and making out. She had thought that she had been as intimate with a man as it was possible to be, but now she was forced to reconsider.

There was something almost frighteningly intimate about shaving Stannis Baratheon. It was not difficult to follow his clipped, precise instructions, but it _was_ difficult to keep her heart from beating its way out of her chest. Thankfully her nervous energy did not translate to shaky hands. She felt sure Stannis would not like getting nicked.

“Use the tips of your fingers to feel for any spots you might have missed,” Stannis said at the end, not meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Like this?” she ran her fingers over his freshly shaved skin, still completely smooth and soft due to the conditioner. It felt lovely, but also very awkward. She had never touched a guy in this way without being in a romantic relationship with him.

“Yes.” His voice was strained.

Sansa found one rough spot, so she carefully ran the razor over it. After that, she cleaned the leftover conditioner from his skin and patted him dry.

“Would you like some aftershave?” she asked, hoping he would say yes. She recognised the brand of aftershave that the bathroom cabin was stocked with as one the scents her father used sometimes, and it was one of her favourites.

“Might as well,” he said, his voice full of annoyance. “Don’t use too much.”

“I won’t,” she said promised, reaching for the bottle.

Their eyes met for a moment while she applied the aftershave, and Sansa blushed when she realised Stannis had just caught her inhaling a lot more deeply than she needed to. Thankfully he didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to wash your hair now,” she told him, feeling a lot more confident now that the shaving was over and done with.

Sansa adjusted Stannis’ chair until the back of his head was poised over the sink. She had to lean over him to work, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable since the sink was fairly large.

It was simple work to wash short hair, but when she lathered the shampoo she nonetheless did it slowly and gently. Old Nan had always complained if she went too fast or rubbed too hard.

Stannis stayed silent through it all, his jaw clenched and his eyes squeezed shut. The only sound he made was a very small one when she rubbed the shampoo into the hair near the nape of his neck, and Sansa really wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had he just been clearing his throat? Complaining? Encouraging?

“Okay?” she said, needing to know if he was experiencing any discomfort.

“Fine,” he said again, his voice hoarse. “Hurry up.”

She stopped massaging the shampoo into his scalp and started to rinse the lather away, she was careful with her fingernails, knowing that it would hurt him if she scratched too hard, but Stannis flinched anyway when her nails touched his scalp.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” She bit her lip, and tried to use the pads of her fingers only.

“Hurry up,” he said again, sounding like he was definitely in pain.

They didn’t say anything after that. Sansa finished rinsing his hair, towelling it dry and then towelling the foot that had been soaking. She left him alone for a while, giving him privacy to clean the places he hadn’t wanted help with - and to use the facilities if he needed to - and used the time to find a fresh nightshirt for him and to check whether the bedlinens had been changed. They hadn’t.

She knocked on the door to the en suite and waited for Stannis’ terse permission to enter before going back in.

“The bed hasn’t been changed yet, but I have a clean shirt for you,” she said, walking up to Stannis in his chair and reaching to take the towel that was still draped over his body, hiding his torso and his pyjama-clad lap from view.

“Don’t,” he said, the word coming out harsh and sharp.

Sansa dropped her hand and blinked at him in surprise. “You don’t want a clean shirt?”

“Get out,” he said, an expression she couldn’t quite read on his face. Part embarrassment, part pain, part something else.

“Is everything okay?”

“Get out!” he repeated, his voice rising to almost a shout.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling alarmed, rejected and rather like she had already failed at her job. She left the en suite and rushed out of the bedroom, bumping into the tired housekeeper on her way out.

***

Stannis took a deep breath once Sansa Stark left the en suite.

He hadn’t been expecting her to wash and shave him. A few of the other nurses had, but they hadn’t been nearly as gentle as Sansa had.

Sansa’s hands had felt a little too good.

It was horribly embarrassing to experience a physical reaction to a woman’s touch in the circumstances he was in. Thankfully it hadn’t happened until after she started shaving him, and the towel she had covered him with had hidden the telltale bulge.

_Fuck. Why isn’t it going away?_

He needed to stop thinking about how her fingertips had felt as they traced the outline of his jaw, how good her nails had felt when they had scratched lightly against his scalp, and how much she seemed to have enjoyed the scent of his aftershave. The sound of her deep inhalation kept repeating itself in his head.

_It didn’t mean anything. She liked the product, not me._

His cock twitched against the loose material of his pyjama bottoms, cheerfully reminding him that he hadn’t had an orgasm since before the accident more than ten days ago.

 _I know,_ he thought at it, feeling nothing but pure frustration. _My hands are in casts. What do you want me to do?_

The memory of Sansa’s hands massaging shampoo into his hair assaulted him more strongly than before. Those hands would probably feel much better than his own.

He needed to stop thinking about it. Sansa was young enough to be his daughter. He didn’t know anything about her and therefore he couldn’t be attracted to her. 

_Just… think about something else and the stupid cockstand will go away._

His inferior parts argued that Sansa was beautiful, kind, liked the way he smelled, and had soft hands, and what else did he need to know to be attracted to someone, really?

As always, Stannis ignored those parts of himself.

A few more deep breaths, and and some carefully selected memories from his childhood with Robert later, his erection was gone and he felt ready to face the world. Now he just needed to get a nightshirt on and get back to bed. Unfortunately he would need help to do that. With a sigh he used his uninjured foot to get his chair out into the bedroom.

“Hello Maria,” he said to the short woman who was busy making his bed. The sheets looked fresh and inviting.

“Hello?” Maria said, glaring at him. “Don’t give me ‘hello’. Why did you upset the new nurse? Now I have to help you with your wet towel and your nightshirt and everything. You know I have better things to do.”

“She’s not technically a nurse,” Stannis grumbled, submitting to Maria’s care with bad grace.

“Well, she’s definitely upset,” Maria said with a sniff as she pulled the towel from his body and then found the nightshirt Sansa had intended to dress him in before he ran her off.

Stannis didn’t say anything until his and Maria’s combined efforts had landed him in bed. His ribs hurt, and his broken collarbone was screaming at him.

“My pills,” he gasped out, ignoring his pride in order to give Maria a pleading look.

“You know I stay away from those pills. If I accidentally give you the wrong ones I will lose my job.”

“It’s simple, you can show me the bottles and I will choose the right one,” Stannis asked, hardly able to get the words out because the pain was really spiking. The dose Robert had given him before going to pick Sansa up at the train station had to be wearing off.

“No. I will go get your new nurse.” Maria was already leaving.

“Wait,” Stannis groaned, “she’s really not technically a nurse.”

It was too late. Maria was gone.


	2. Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Navy Blue String Bikini

After Stannis told her to leave, Sansa had gone to her room to try to calm herself down.

 _Don’t cry,_ she thought, _he’s just a grumpy man who doesn’t know how to communicate properly._

Despite her best efforts a few tears escaped.

 _Crybaby,_ a voice that sounded a lot like Arya’s said in her head.

She paced around her beautiful room, focused on breathing, focused on anything but the way Stannis had sounded when he had barked at her.

After a few minutes she managed to calm herself down.

She distracted herself by going through her things, looking for her bikini, and trying to decide whether she was feeling brave enough to go down to the pool. She was still rummaging through a drawer when there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she said, frowning down at the drawer. She was _sure_ she had put her bikini in there... Oh, there it was. Under her yoga pants. Perhaps she needed to reorganise her things. She had a good system at home, but there were fewer drawers in this room - though they were larger than the ones in her room in Winterfell - so she should probably try to come up with a new system.

“Mr. Stannis needs his pain medicine,” the housekeeper said, sounding impatient. “You have to find it for him.”

Sansa whirled around, all thoughts of clothing organisation gone. _Stannis is in pain?_ A part of her wanted to go to him at once and find the pain medication, but the part of her that was still rather upset with him for yelling at her wasn’t quite as eager to see him again.

“I’ll - I’ll be right there.”

The housekeeper nodded and left.

Sansa walked over to the mirror by the wardrobe and examined her face. Her eyes looked a little red-rimmed.

Doing her best to be quick, she went to her en suite and splashed some water on her face, hoping to disguise the fact that she had been crying. It didn’t really work, but Sansa had to face Stannis regardless.

 _He’s probably in too much pain to notice,_ she thought to herself, a pang of guilt shooting through her. She couldn’t make him wait any longer.

She walked back to the room she had left in tears, a knot forming in her stomach.

“Mr. Baratheon?”

“The pills,” he said, a grimace on his face. “The largest bottle. Two.”

Sansa hurried to do as she was told. She trusted that Stannis knew what he was talking about, but she read the label of the bottle he had indicated just in case. She did not want to be responsible for an accidental overdose.

“When was the last time you took these?” she asked as she fished two pills out of the plastic bottle.

“About an hour before Robert left this morning,” Stannis bit out.

The instructions said that he should take two pills every four to six hours. It had been more than four.

Sansa hurriedly poured Stannis a glass of water and brought the pills over. It was awkward to put the pills in his mouth with her hand, and Sansa found herself wishing for those little plastic pill containers that the nurses had always used at the hospital in Winterfell.

His lips were dry.

“You should drink the whole glass,” Sansa instructed, her hand only trembling a tiny bit as she tipped the glass and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down with each swallow.

Stannis gave her an exasperated glare over the rim of the glass. _Don’t you think I know that?_ he seemed to say.

“How long does it take for them to start working?” she asked once Stannis had finished his water.

“Little while,” he muttered with a grimace.

Sansa put the glass away and tried not to fidget when she turned back to face her patient. “Would you like me to stay?” Her tone was more subdued than she had planned to make it.

Stannis looked at her, his gaze burning.

“Miss Stark, were you crying?” he suddenly asked, looking irritated.

“No,” Sansa immediately said, turning her back on him.

“Yes you were,” Stannis said, sounding even more irritated than he had looked. “Why?”

“I wasn’t, but if I was it’s none of your business why,” Sansa blurted out.

“I won’t have you going to Robert and complaining that I’ve been mistreating you. If I’ve said or done anything to upset you I want you to discuss it with me like an adult,” Stannis said, his tone harsh.

“I’m not going to go to Robert,” Sansa said, and to her horror she could feel her eyes welling up again.

“Really? Because that’s what the others have done. That or they’ve just _left._ ” Stannis’ voice had become as bitter as it was harsh.

Something wilful rose up inside Sansa and she whirled around to face him.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, lifting her chin. “But if you’re going to continue to speak to me the way you have spoken today, I might not bother with being very nice to you.”

Stannis raised a brow. “And how have I been speaking to you, pray tell?”

Sansa didn’t answer straight away. It was not in her nature to speak her mind frankly, but Stannis did not seem to be the sort of man who could take a subtle hint. 

“Rudely,” she said after a moment, trying to keep her voice calm. “I’ve done nothing but try to help you, and you yelled at me to get out of here ten minutes ago.”

The colour in Stannis’ cheeks deepened at that, and Sansa wondered if it was due to anger.

“I was not in need of your help,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, really?” she said, crossing her arms. “Then why am I back here again?”

Stannis clenched his jaw and said nothing.

Sansa took a breath and tried to relax her stance.

“Please. All I want is to do my best to make you comfortable. I’m willing to listen to you and follow your orders to the letter. Surely you could treat me with a little courtesy in return?”

Stannis was staring at her with a very strange expression on his face. His cheeks were still flushed, and his jaw was still clenched, but there was something… startled... in his eyes.

He seemed to chew on his words when he finally said them. 

“I suppose.”

She gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

There was a short, uncomfortable silence.

“Do you need anything right now?” she asked, hoping that he would say no.

He shook his head.

“Well, just use your call button if you need me.”

A nod, this time.

She left, feeling rather proud of her accomplishment, but also feeling as if she had missed something. Something important.

***

Stannis felt the painkillers kick in and tried to relax. It was very difficult with Sansa Stark’s words ringing inside his head, however.

_I’m willing to listen to you and follow your orders to the letter._

His mind had gone straight to the gutter when she had spoken. Filthy ideas had filled his brain so quickly that he had almost felt momentarily paralysed.

 _Is this what it’s like to be Robert?_ Stannis wondered, trying to push the idea of Sansa’s hands massaging his cock from his mind.

He would not be thinking like this if Sansa hadn’t helped him wash the way she had. And if it hadn’t been too long since he’d received any kind of arousing stimulation, he probably wouldn’t have responded to her touch so inappropriately. It was all just bad timing.

It had nothing to do with how beautiful she was and how much he urgently wanted to know what her face looked like in the midst of an orgasm. 

It would probably look all flushed and pink and scrunched up with the effort… Maybe she’d bite her bottom lip?

_Stop._

Stannis looked down at himself in dismay. The bulge was horribly conspicuous, and the pressure was reaching the point where it was _unbearable_ to ignore it. Unfortunately he couldn’t address the matter. He was unable to grip with his hands. He couldn’t even turn around and rub himself against the mattress due to his numerous injuries. He was trapped.

With a deep breath, Stannis closed his eyes. He needed to distract himself. He needed to think of things that were mundane and unappealing. The damned erection _would_ go away. Eventually.

Doing algebra in his head usually did the trick. Or remembering the way Robert always tried to get out of doing his algebra homework by slipping it into Stannis’ pile -- as if Stannis didn’t know exactly which assignments were his own, and which ones belonged to his older brother.

What might Sansa look like in a school uniform, doing algebra homework? What sort of student was she? Would she sit and solve her own equations with an intent expression on her face? Or ignore her work and chat with her friends? Would she cross her legs under the table, causing her thighs to become very exposed due to her short skirt? And then, when she finished her assignment, and got up to hand it in… to him, her teacher, ready to receive further instructions, might she perhaps drop it on the floor? Would she be wearing any underwear?

Stannis groaned.

He had never wanted to touch himself as much as he did now.

_Disgusting old pervert._

It had to be the painkillers. They were messing with his head. He would never think about a young innocent girl like this, otherwise.

She probably had no idea how her words had affected him. No idea that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about what sorts of orders he might give her, and how she might follow them to the letter.

Stannis’ sexual experiences were undoubtedly less numerous than those of his peers, but he liked to believe that in these matters, quality ranked over quantity. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had many quality experiences, either. His knowledge of what good sex was supposed to be was depressingly rooted in things he’d read, images he’d seen and videos he had watched. Once or twice perhaps, when he had been younger, he had ended up in bed with women whose company he had genuinely enjoyed for the entirety of the duration, but those encounters had been the exception, not the rule. Admittedly, things hadn’t been too terrible with Selyse, but everything about that relationship had been so… forced. They had both been willing participants, he supposed, but the circumstances had been forced. Unnatural.

Stannis had certainly never had an experience where a woman had followed his every order to the letter.

He hadn’t quite realised up until now that it was something he wanted.

Did Sansa have a similar amount of experience as he did? Or was she already more experienced than he was? Had she ever put her mouth on a man’s cock? Wrapped her lips around the head and swirled her tongue around like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted? Had a man ever licked her until she screamed? Fucked her until she was incoherent with pleasure?

Stannis squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily and sweating. He could feel his cock twitching, but he refused to open his eyes and look. His arousal was starting to hurt a little. The pressure was too intense. The frustration of being unable to deal with it making him want to let out a litany of swear words.

A vivid mental image of Sansa sucking him off was refusing to leave his mind. Her lips swollen and moist with her own saliva as she took him in deep, her blue eyes fixed on him. Adoring. Obedient.

It was as if some degenerate part of him had seized control of his mind and body, leaving his rational self helpless and appalled.

_Is this how Doctor Jekyll felt when Mr. Hyde took over?_

A small, pathetic whimper escaped him. He was alone, helpless, and at the mercy of a depraved monster that had awakened within him.

… And he couldn’t even masturbate in an attempt to regain his sanity. Much less could he call for anyone to help him. Sansa would probably have him arrested if he tried it, and he was not about to ask Robert.

Stannis grimaced. There was nothing he could do except try to fight this.

Feeling decidedly clammy, he took a series of deep breaths. Algebra hadn’t worked, but perhaps thinking about his parents would. His grief was always with him, and Mr. Hyde could hardly turn the death of his beloved mother and father into something arousing.

The pain he had felt when he had witnessed the crash came back as soon as he allowed himself to remember that horrible day. It still felt almost as sharp as it had when he had been fourteen. Time was meant to heal all wounds, but this wound was deep. Deep, and still open after all these years.

It worked.

It took a few minutes, but it worked.

Stannis didn’t feel all that pleased with his victory over his baser self, however. It was difficult to feel triumphant when grief was numbing one’s senses. Grief, and a slimy, stomach-turning feeling of disgust with himself.

***

The housekeeper, Maria, informed Sansa that Stannis wouldn’t take lunch before one o’clock. That left Sansa with plenty of time to explore the house and figure out which room was Joffrey’s. She didn’t go inside, of course. It was locked. But she liked knowing where he slept. It made her heart leap and flutter to think of him -- just on the other side of that door, probably wearing next to nothing...

The weather was beautiful, and though Sansa didn’t really have time to go for a dip in the pool, she still decided to change into her bikini, and put a loose sundress on over it. Maybe she would have time to splash around a bit after she fed Stannis his lunch? For now she was just sitting near the pool, hair piled up in a messy bun, an open bottle of sunblock within reach, her face turned towards the blue, cloudless sky.

It was strange, but she hadn’t seen a single member of the household since Robert had disappeared. She had explored most of the house, though she had not entered any of the locked bedrooms, so she was forced to conclude that everyone was either still sleeping, or out.

“Sansa?”

Sansa turned around in response to the pleasant female voice that had spoken. Finally a member of Robert’s family had shown up.

“Myrcella,” Sansa said with a smile. “It’s been too long!”

Myrcella was wearing a fashionable shimmering bikini and a sheer length of azure fabric that was tied around her hips in a way that was effortlessly chic. _I should ask her to teach me how to do that._ At sixteen she was a couple of years younger than Sansa, but the awkwardness of adolescence seemed to have decided to give her a miss. She was already a miniature of her famously beautiful mother, Cersei. The smile on Myrcella’s lips was much wider than any smile Sansa had ever seen on Cersei’s face, however, and her eyes were bright and welcoming.

They chatted for a while, catching up with one another. Soon enough the subject of Stannis came up.

“I can’t believe you’re here to take care of him,” Myrcella said, a note of sympathetic awe in her voice. “He’s such a chore. I’ve had to help out a few times in between nurses, and I honestly I don’t know how you’re going to last two days.”

Sansa might have agreed with Myrcella when she had been crying earlier, but after talking it over with Stannis she felt more optimistic. 

“He’s in a lot of pain. Sometimes people lash out when they’re in pain.”

As soon as the words left Sansa’s lips, she felt a pang of guilt. Had it been unreasonable of her to expect him to treat her courteously while he was in so much pain? So dependent on her help? Didn’t he have every right to be grumpy and irritable with the world in his present condition?

Sansa tried not to show her doubt on her face, but Myrcella looked unconvinced regardless, and there was a pause in the conversation.

“Do you know what happened to him?” Sansa asked after a little while, breaking the silence. Robert hadn’t really given her a proper answer.

“Stannis?” Myrcella said, raising an eyebrow. “No clue. Dad wouldn’t say.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little weird?” Sansa asked, furrowing her brow. “It makes it seem like they’re hiding something.”

Myrcella rolled her eyes. “My guess is that it’s Dad’s fault that Stannis got hurt, and he probably doesn’t want the story to get out.”

“I’m sure it was an accident, whatever happened,” Sansa said, feeling a little shocked at Myrcella’s dismissive attitude.

“Sure,” Myrcella said with a shrug. “A drunken one.”

There was another awkward silence while Sansa tried to figure out how to respond.

“I should probably get back inside,” she eventually said, watching as Myrcella started to apply some sunscreen.

“Oh, you’re not getting in the pool?”

“No, I need to feed Stannis his lunch in half an hour. Hardly seems worth it to get in with so little time to spare.”

Myrcella nodded, and kept rubbing lotion into her golden skin. Sansa suppressed an envious sigh. She would never in a million years be able to get a tan like that. Her skin just didn’t allow for it.

“You should come back outside when you’re done,” Myrcella said. “We’ll have the pool to ourselves until at least two o’clock. Joffrey never comes out until then.”

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat at the mention of Joffrey’s name, but she attempted to keep her cool. If she asked too many questions about him, Myrcella might realise she had a crush, and Sansa wasn't sure she could trust Myrcella to keep it to herself.

“Oh? Why so late?”

“He likes to sleep in,” Myrcella said with a shrug. “Just like Mum. They’re never up until after lunch.”

Strangely enough, Myrcella seemed very pleased about this.

Sansa didn’t linger. She could feel herself blushing as she walked away and imagined what it would be like when Joffrey arrived at the pool, wearing nothing but swim trunks and a towel slung over his shoulder, his golden skin glistening with sunscreen, his teeth a brilliant white as he smiled just for her…

***

Stannis was still mired in a state of depression due to his thoughts of his parents’ death when the door to his room burst open at one o’clock.

 _Lunch,_ he managed to think before his entire brain seemed to stop functioning for a moment.

Sansa was wearing a bikini. She was wearing a dress over the bikini, but it was a very thin, very white, very _strapless_ dress, and it didn’t really do much to disguise the fact that she was wearing a navy blue bikini and not much else underneath it.

The bikini was _tiny._ One of those stringy things that probably didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

_Gods._

“Maria said you like to eat at one o’clock, and I asked the cook to make you something special today,” Sansa said cheerfully, breezing into the room and going about the business of getting him ready to be fed.

He didn’t even glance at the tray she was carrying. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the hastily tied knot he could spy at the back of her neck. It wasn’t a proper knot… it was just a bow. A simple bow. He’d just need to tug on it and the bikini top would unravel. And then maybe the strapless dress would fall down, too...

He swallowed; his tongue was much too dry.

“I’m not hungry,” he rasped, panicking a little due to the way his blood was rushing away from his brain. Sansa needed to leave before she noticed where the blood was going.

Sansa blinked at him, looking puzzled. “But you always like to eat lunch at one o’clock, Mr. Baratheon. Maria said.”

“Not today,” he snapped, wondering whether biting the inside of his cheek would be painful enough to keep himself fit for company.

For a moment Sansa looked cross, but then her face softened.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” she asked, her voice soothing and sweet. She had already put the laden tray down, so her hands were free. One of them found his shoulder. There was a consoling squeeze.

Stannis seized the excuse. The pills from before were still working, but maybe if she believed he was in pain she could be convinced to leave him alone for a while. And maybe she wouldn’t noticed the mortifying bulge that was forming.

“It’s… yes. There is some pain.”

Sansa’s sympathy looked so utterly genuine that Stannis immediately felt like a bastard for lying to her. His heart also did a strange somersault in his chest.

“I’m so sorry I can’t give you more pain medication yet,” she said, her hand now rubbing soothing circles where it was still resting on his shoulder. It was a warm and gentle touch. … Caring.

Stannis swallowed several times before he felt ready to attempt to get her to leave. Despite the fact that she was one glance southward from discovering that he was a pervert, he didn’t want her to go. She was the first person to show even a _hint_ of genuine sympathy or caring for him since his injury.

Well, aside from Davos, perhaps. But Davos couldn’t spare much time at to visit. He was filling Stannis’ shoes at work, and he had his family to take care of, too.

“Maybe the food will help?” Sansa asked, her voice tentative. “I asked the cook to make you your favourite dish.”

Now that she mentioned it, he did smell salmon. His stomach growled.

Sansa’s lips twitched. “Please just try some?” She lifted the lid off the plate carrying the main course and a much stronger aroma of grilled fish and … _lemon?_ ... reached him.

“There’s lemon butter,” Sansa added, her eyes sparkling.

Maybe if he focused on eating the arousal would go away? And Sansa would have to look at his face rather than at… anywhere else… while he was eating, or risk poking him in the eye with a fork. This might work.

“Fine,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

The hint of a smile that had been playing on her lips blossomed into a wide grin.

“You won’t regret it, Mr. Baratheon. I already had some earlier, and it’s delicious!”

“Stannis,” he said before he could stop himself. “You may call me Stannis.”

The apples of Sansa’s cheeks pinkened, and her lips parted for a moment in surprise. He was forced to suppress a groan.

“All right,” she said, meeting his eyes as if she were just as transfixed as he was. “Stannis.”

His heart did another somersault at the sound of his name on her lips.

“You may call me Sansa, of course,” Sansa then babbled, ducking her head and moving his plate a little to the left on the tray. “Miss Stark sounds very austere.” She picked up the cutlery and started cutting the fish for him.

The first bite was quite good - the salmon wasn’t overcooked, and the lemon butter balanced the flavour out nicely - and it was made even better because Sansa was feeding it to him. Being fed like an infant was not usually something he enjoyed, but now… now it felt like he was being pampered rather than treated like a helpless invalid. And it was simple. He and Sansa both had clear roles. There was no awkwardness.

As he ate, his arousal took a backseat to the pleasure of eating good food and filling his stomach properly for the first time in days. He was so thankful by the time Sansa started clearing the tray away, both for the full stomach and the lack of an embarrassing bulge, that he actually felt compelled to acknowledge his gratitude.

“Thank you, Sansa.”

She glowed.

A warmth that had nothing to do with arousal spread through him at the sight, making him feel less like a broken, useless lump, and more like someone whole and healthy and worthwhile.

Stannis didn’t understand. He’d seen beautiful women before. Cersei was widely considered to be one of the most stunning women in the world. Then there was Melisandre at work, those infuriating Tyrells that usually showed up around Renly’s boyfriend, and countless nameless women that always seemed to follow Robert around wherever he went.

None of them had affected him like this. 

“You’re welcome,” Sansa said, glowing still more brightly. She had finished clearing the lunch tray away and was looking at him curiously. “So, did you want to go for a walk now or later?”

“Later,” Stannis said, albeit reluctantly. He found himself wanting to spend more time with Sansa now that his body was no longer misbehaving. “I prefer to go out when my brother’s children are no longer by the pool.”

“Oh?” Sansa seemed surprised.

Stannis scowled. “On my first day here, Joffrey thought it would be amusing to get my casts soaking wet. I had to go back to the hospital for new ones. It was very inconvenient.”

“Oh,” Sansa said again. It was quieter than before, and more shocked than surprised.

There was a long silence.

“I should probably return the tray to the kitchen,” Sansa eventually said. She was biting her lower lip, and Stannis was quick to look away. He did not need his little problem to return.

“Do you - do you need anything else before I go?”

“No.”

_Yes._

Stannis needed her to sit down and tell him everything about herself. He wanted to close his eyes, relax, and let her voice wash over him as he absorbed everything she chose to share. He also wanted to feel her hands on his skin again.

Could he ask her to shave him every day?

_That’s a terrible idea._

“Are you sure? Not even the bathroom?”

Would she be able to help him cross the room without the use of a wheelchair?

“I - yes. Maybe.”

Stannis needn’t have worried. Sansa was perfectly capable of supporting him as he hobbled to the en suite. She got him situated with no fuss, and her calm, efficient demeanour lessened his embarrassment. But he still hated every moment of it. He wished he could have met Sansa under different circumstances. He wanted her to see him as a powerful, whole, confident man. Not an invalid who couldn’t walk to the bathroom.

She left the en suite while he did his business, and returned to help him get back to bed as soon as he called.

He felt very tired by the time he was back in bed. Perhaps a short nap would be in order...

“I’ll see you later, Stannis,” Sansa said, her voice soothing.

He wished she would stay.

Stannis closed his eyes and heaved a small sigh when he heard the door click shut behind her.

_What’s wrong with me?_


	3. The Accident

Sansa didn’t know what she had been expecting.

Well, yes. She did know. She had expected Joffrey to notice her. Talk to her. Fall head over heels in love with her and ask her out on a date.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened.

“Hey,” Joffrey said, walking to her lounge chair with a swagger in his step, a towel slung over his shoulder just as she had imagined. His eyes went from her face to her breasts in less time than it took to blink.

Feeling exhilarated that he was talking to her, Sansa straightened her back. “Joffrey!” She sounded a lot more breathless than she had intended, but that couldn’t be helped. Her heart was racing. _Oh, gods, oh, gods…_

“Sansa, right?” Joffrey drawled, his eyes lingering on her cleavage. He moved closer. She stood up to face him.

“Yeah, mmhm,” she said, nodding, her vocabulary strangely inaccessible.

“Dad said you’d be coming.” Joffrey reached for a lock of hair that had escaped her messy bun, and wrapped it around a graceful finger. “You’ve grown up since the last time we met.”

She giggled and blushed.

“What are you doing here, again?” he asked, moving still closer. His chest was bare, lean, and hairless. He had a golden tan just like Myrcella’s.

“Oh, um, I’m taking care of your uncle. You know, since he scared all his nurses away.” She laughed, hoping that he’d laugh, too.

Joffrey dropped the lock of her hair and took a step back. “You work for us?” he said, a sneer marring his handsome face. “Oh.” He took another step back.

Sansa’s heart sank to her knees. She’d seen too many rich assholes look at waitresses and valets in the haughty, disinterested way Joffrey was looking at her now to be under any illusions about what he was thinking.

He didn’t even seem interested in her breasts anymore, even though she subtly tried to stick her chest out a little.

But it didn’t matter. He walked away without another word and settled on the other side of the pool.

She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he didn’t want to complicate things for his uncle by getting involved with her? Maybe he thought she’d be forced to quit her job if he took her on a date? But her stomach twisted up inside her as she tried to convince herself of this. Deep down she knew exactly what Joffrey’s problem was. He thought he was too good for her -- that she was beneath him because she was taking care of his uncle.

But she didn’t want to believe it.

 _He’ll come around,_ she told herself, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. _I’ll just have to make him understand I’m not some sort of… servant._

She decided to go inside for the time being, however. She didn’t want Joffrey to think she was desperate for his attention or anything.

Sansa almost ran into Cersei on her way into the house. She was wearing enormous black sunglasses with gold details that probably cost a small fortune, and her mouth was twisted into a sour little frown. She was carrying a tall glass of something thick and red, and a celery stick was sticking out of it. _A Bloody Mary?_

“Oh, you’re here,” Cersei said, probably looking at her. Sansa couldn’t see her eyes.

“Yes, Mrs. Baratheon. Thank you for your hospitality and the lovely room. It’s beautiful.”

Cersei waved her free hand in a vague ‘it was nothing’ gesture. “Have you met dear Stannis yet?” The ‘dear’ came out sounding rather cold.

“Of course, I’ve been taking care of him since this morning.”

Sansa assumed Cersei had raised a brow judging by the way her forehead moved. “Wearing that?”

Sansa blinked. “Um -”

“It won’t do you any favours,” Cersei said, cutting Sansa off. “He won’t be any nicer to you. You could probably give him a sponge bath in the nude and he wouldn’t so much as glance down.”

“... Okay.” Sansa wondered why Cersei was telling her this.

Cersei smiled. It was nothing like Myrcella’s smile. “But I suppose you didn’t wear this lovely thing for him, now did you?”

Sansa blushed violently. She didn’t know whether to say yes or no. “I wore it to sunbathe,” she eventually managed in a small voice.

“A word of advice, little dove,” Cersei said, sipping her red juice, “be careful what you wish for.” She swept outside to the pool, leaving Sansa alone and confused.

***

It was a little past four in the afternoon and Joffrey and Cersei had left the pool area. That meant it was time for Stannis’ walk. Sansa was standing right outside his door, and in a minute she’d have to go inside and face him. The thought didn’t perturb her. She was incredibly proud of the progress she had made with the sullen man in less than a day, and a part of her was actually looking forward to spending more time with him. With him at least, unlike with Joffrey and Cersei, she was starting to become fairly sure of what to expect.

She fixed a smile onto her face, and breezed into the room once she had announced herself, and Stannis had granted her permission to enter.

As soon as she saw his face she knew it had to be time for him to take more painkillers. He was as pale as a ghost.

She got the correct dose from the same bottle as before and helped him take the pills without a word. It felt a little less odd to touch his lips this time around, but they really were much too dry. Did men never wear chapstick?

Stannis muttered a quiet thank you after she finished helping him drink a glass of water, and she smiled at him in return.

It was much easier to help him into his wheelchair now that she had done it before, and soon they were outside in the late afternoon sun. Stannis hadn’t said much since the thank you, but he didn’t seem grumpy or angry. Sansa suspected he was pleased to be out of bed, and glad for some fresh air.

Sansa settled Stannis’ chair next to a convenient garden bench that overlooked the unoccupied pool, and sat down herself. “Did you get some rest while I was gone?” she asked him, hoping to start a friendly conversation.

“I suppose,” Stannis said.

“I spent some time out here earlier,” Sansa volunteered, “I saw Joffrey.” _And Cersei._ She frowned a little as she remembered Joffrey’s reaction to her, and Cersei strange advice.

Stannis examined her face a little too closely for comfort, and Sansa felt herself start to blush. Did he suspect that she had a crush on Joffrey? Was that why he was looking at her like that?

After a while, Stannis scowled. “What did he do?” 

Sansa blinked. “What did who do?”

“Joffrey.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Sansa hurried to say, getting up and walking around to stand behind Stannis’ chair. She started to push him again, walking along the path. The flowers and the trees along the path were vivid and fragrant, and the leaves whispered softly in the light breeze.

“I know my nephew,” Stannis muttered. “He did something.”

“He didn’t!” Sansa protested. “He just… didn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Be grateful,” Stannis said. “Robert had to pay the last girl Joffrey... ‘liked’ to keep quiet about what he did to her. You’d do well to steer clear of him.”

Sansa stopped walking.

_”Be careful what you wish for.”_

“What did Joffrey do to her?” she asked, her heart beating fast. She couldn’t believe it was something very bad. It must have been some sort of misunderstanding.

But why would Stannis bring it up if it had only been a misunderstanding?

 _Stannis doesn’t like Joffrey,_ she reminded herself. _Joffrey played a stupid prank on him._

“I don’t know the details,” Stannis sighed. “All I know is that she threatened to go to the police.”

“The police?” Sansa’s voice sounded weak even to herself. Stannis wouldn’t make something like that up, would he?

“And there have been others,” Stannis said darkly. “I strongly encourage you to stay away from that boy.”

Sansa wanted to ask for the proof. She wanted to ask why Stannis was even telling her this. But she couldn’t make herself do it. She just stood stock still and tried to think of a way to make it seem like Joffrey hadn’t done anything wrong.

 _Stannis doesn’t know the details,_ she told herself, feeling desperate. _There has to be an explanation._

Feeling a little better, Sansa started pushing the wheelchair again. It wasn’t too difficult since the path was level and smooth, but she’d probably have a bit of trouble pushing Stannis uphill. He was not a small man.

They were quiet for a while, but Stannis unexpectedly broke the silence when they started their second circle around the pool.

“Did you want him to like you?” The question was sharp. It was like the prosecutors on the court drama TV shows tended to talk to defendants on the stand.

“I want everyone to like me,” Sansa answered, relieved that Stannis couldn’t see her face.

Stannis made a derisive sound. “It’s impossible to be universally liked.”

_For you, maybe._

“I don’t think so,” Sansa said, trying to keep her tone light. “I got you to like me, didn’t I?”

She saw Stannis’ shoulders tense. He made a strange sound that was half cough, half… something unrecognisable.

Curious - and a little worried - Sansa stopped and walked around to face Stannis. “Are you okay?” she asked, making her voice as solicitous as possible.

“Fine,” Stannis said, his face a little more red than it usually was.

He didn’t look entirely fine. But then, Sansa supposed a person with so many broken bones couldn’t look fine if they tried.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

“Not yet,” Stannis said, the words shooting out quite quickly.

Sansa returned to her post at his back and started to push the chair again. “Don’t worry. I like you, too,” she said, feeling a little impish.

Stannis actually _harrumphed._

***

Waiting for Sansa to come back and feed him his dinner was torture.

_"I like you, too."_

Her words echoed in his mind, tormenting him. He knew perfectly well that she hadn’t meant that she liked him romantically, but some absurd part of him kept _hoping._

It was like he was fourteen all over again.

Why couldn’t he just be glad that he’d managed to have a painless walk with a halfway competent caregiver and leave it at that?

He knew why. He liked her. He liked her romantically, and he was intensely, _cumbersomely_ , sexually attracted to her. This had never happened to him quite so quickly, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it.

So here he was. Pining like an adolescent.

_Absurd._

When Sansa finally knocked and announced that she had brought him his dinner, his heart almost leapt from his chest.

“Come in,” he hurried to say, wishing for a moment that he could check his reflection in a mirror. He wanted to check his hair.

He grimaced when he realised how stupid he was being.

Sansa was dressed the same way she had been dressed during their walk. The white sundress and the bikini were long gone. The jeans she was wearing were sufficiently tight to keep him busy trying not to stare, however.

“Steak tonight,” Sansa declared. “You need to keep your strength up.”

The food smelled incredibly good, and Stannis looked forward to eating it. He looked forward to the way Sansa would feed him perfect little bites and smile at him.

“What do you do in here when I’m not around?” Sansa asked as she adjusted the bed and got the tray into position.

_Try to will inappropriate erections away, mostly._

“Today I haven’t felt up to much,” he said, eyeing the steak Sansa had just revealed and started to cut. It looked mouth-wateringly good. Medium-rare, but a little closer to rare than medium. _Perfect._

“But what do you do when you do have the energy?” Sansa asked, offering him a bite.

He chewed and swallowed before answering. “Sometimes I listen to audiobooks. Sometimes I watch television.”

“Which do you prefer?”

Another bite. More chewing.

“Books,” he said, glancing at the glass of lemon water Sansa had brought. She gave him a sip without having to be asked.

“Do you have all the audiobooks you need?”

He hesitated for a second. “For the most part.”

“You’re missing a book, aren’t you?” Sansa asked, her voice taking on a slightly shrewd tone.

Stannis swallowed more of the delicious food, contemplating whether he should tell her.

“I haven’t been able to find an audio version of _All Quiet on the Western Front_ that I can tolerate,” Stannis admitted, not seeing the harm in telling her.

“Do you have a copy of the book?” Sansa asked, piling the fork high with steamed vegetables.

He ate his vegetables without complaint. “First edition,” he said, a hint of pride sneaking into his voice.

“I could try reading out loud for you,” Sansa offered, giving him a tentative look. “Unless you don’t want people touching the book. It must be valuable. But in that case I could just download it to my Kindle! Or maybe I could get a paperback? There’s a bookstore nearby, isn’t there? I thought I saw -”

She was babbling.

“I don’t know,” Stannis said, cutting her off. “I’m rather particular about how that book is read.”

Sansa gave him another bite of the steak. “I could try?” she said, her eyes becoming very big. “I could try, and you could tell me whether it worked for you, and if it didn’t I could just stop.”

His mouth was full, so he grunted. Perhaps he would have shrugged if his injuries had allowed for such things.

She smiled. “Great! We can try it tomorrow!”

Stannis nodded, but he doubted she was being sincere. And even if she was being sincere, he wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea. His body seemed to be back under control for now, but he was a little worried about what might happen if she ended up spending several hours with him at a time. 

He finished every last morsel on his plate, and somehow it didn’t feel uncomfortable when Sansa dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin. He had fired his first nurse for doing something similar -- treating him like a child.

He didn’t feel like a child right now. He felt like a man with a doting girlfriend.

Stannis put the thought from his mind before his blood started to run too hot. Again.

“Would you like some dessert?” Sansa asked.

Stannis didn’t like sweets, but his imagination was quick to supply him with several different meanings to the word ‘dessert’. Somehow they all had something to do with naked body parts.

“No,” he choked out, feeling himself redden.

“Television?” she offered, putting the dinner tray away.

Stannis shook his head. He couldn’t ask for what he really needed, but if Sansa didn’t leave soon she would probably be able to figure it out for herself.

Women were lucky that their arousal was easy to conceal.

Sansa gave him a sympathetic smile. “Tired?”

He nodded, hoping that this would get her to leave. He didn’t want to bark at her the way he had after she had helped him wash. It had upset her, and he found himself not wanting to do that again.

To his immense relief, he got his wish. She took the dinner tray and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

As soon as she was gone, he blew out a breath and closed his eyes. He knew it was a bad idea, but he stopped clenching his muscles, and let his mind wander a little.

His imagination was quick to supply him with a flash of what it might be like to have Sansa’s breasts for dessert. He could see himself fondling them, burying his face in her cleavage, licking at her nipples, and pinching the hardened little peaks. He could see how her curves would fit in the palm of his hand, and he could almost _feel_ the soft, yielding flesh, warm in his hand. His body responded at once. The familiar pressure of his arousal increased until he was fully hard, and Stannis cursed himself for being so weak.

Feeling desperate, he raised the knee of his unbroken leg up and down, wondering if the movement would do anything to relieve the pressure.

It didn’t.

Without stopping to consider whether he might hurt himself, Stannis moved his hands to his groin and started to bump them clumsily against his cock, the casts making it impossible for him to get any kind of grip. The tips of his fingers were free of the casts, however, and after a bit of experimenting he found a way to rub himself a little through the cotton of his pyjamas.

It was rather like trying to put out a blazing inferno with a child’s water pistol.

A frustrated whimper escaped him when he realised that it wasn’t going to work, and for a moment he seriously considered calling for Robert and asking him to arrange for a woman of questionable repute to come and help him.

There was a knock at the door before he finished thinking it through, and for a mad second he wondered if he had somehow summoned a prostitute with the power of his mind.

“Stannis? I thought you might want some help getting ready for the night. Can I come in?”

It was Sansa.

_Fuck._

“No, don’t come in,” he said, wincing at the raw panic evident in his voice.

“Are you okay?” Sansa sounded worried.

“Fine! I just - I need a minute.”

There was silence. Stannis listened as hard as he could, and stared at the door handle. But there was no sign of Sansa trying to enter the room.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself of who he was. _I am Stannis Baratheon. Not a teenager trying to hide pot from my parents._

The erection wouldn’t go away quite yet, and Sansa would probably get worried if he kept her waiting for too long.

Time to be creative.

“You can come in now,” Stannis said, his voice much more dignified.

“Do you brush your teeth in the en suite, or would you like me to bring the things you need out here?” Sansa asked, acting as if nothing remotely strange had just taken place. She was also ignoring the fact that he had raised the knee of his unbroken leg to make sure that no unseemly bulge could be seen beneath the sheets.

“Might as well go in there,” he said before he had a chance to think. His brain caught up to his mistake pretty quickly, however. “Although not quite yet.”

“Oh?”

Stannis met Sansa’s curious gaze and tried to think of something to say or do to keep them occupied for the few minutes it would take for his arousal to go away. It would have to be something distinctly unpleasant, or Sansa’s mere presence would prolong the discomfort he was suffering.

“Do you know how I got injured?” he blurted out.

Sansa bit her lip and shook her head. “I asked Robert, but he wouldn’t say.”

Stannis forced himself to look away from Sansa’s lips and focus on his infuriating memories of the accident.

He heard Sansa pull up a chair and take a seat next to his bed. There was a long, drawn out silence. 

Stannis stared at the window and scowled, but after a while he took a deep breath and started to speak. “Robert insisted on taking some new clients skiing,” he explained, closing his eyes. “I had to go too, to make sure all the contracts got signed. Robert might easily have forgotten all about them after a few drinks.”

“It was a skiing accident, then?” Sansa guessed.

“I hadn’t really intended to ski,” Stannis sighed, opening his eyes and looking at Sansa’s concerned face. “But it was expected, so I went along with it, and tried to keep to the less challenging slopes. I’m - I’m not a very experienced skier. But Robert decided to behave like a child, of course.”

Sansa’s eyes had become very wide, and she seemed paler than before.

“He dragged me along to the ski lift that would deposit us at the top of the steepest, most dangerous slope. When we had nearly reached the top he decided to give me a helpful little shove to get me on my way.”

One of Sansa’s hands was covering her mouth, her expression horrified.

“I managed to regain my balance, but Robert tried to race me down. At one point he cut me off in an attempt to ‘win’, and that was it. I fell. Rather badly.”

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Sansa said, shaking her head.

“He’s sorry about it,” Stannis muttered, lowering his knee. He had nothing to hide now.

“I’m sorry, too.” Sympathy shone from Sansa’s eyes, and before Stannis could stop her, she had reached out to give his shoulder another one of her consoling squeezes.

His stomach did strange little flips for each second of contact, and he forgot to breathe for a moment.

When she withdrew, it was a struggle to keep a noise of protest at bay.

“Do you want a minute?” she asked, all sympathy and genuine concern. “Or do you want me to help you get to the bathroom?”

Stannis closed his eyes for a moment. 

_Control yourself._

He opened his eyes. “I don’t need a minute.”

***

It was still pretty early. She had given Stannis a cocktail of medication that was supposed to help him sleep painlessly through the night, and unless he woke up and called for her, she was free to do as she wished until morning.

She had been planning to seek Joffrey out and try to make him understand that she wasn’t beneath his notice, but after her conversation with Stannis she didn’t quite feel like talking to anyone.

She couldn’t believe what Robert had done. The risk he had taken with Stannis’ life had been astonishing. Sansa wasn’t naive; she knew that siblings often had rivalries and that sometimes they just teased each other for the hell of it, but skiing accidents could leave people brain damaged. As much as Arya could be a pain in the ass, Sansa knew they could never do anything so potentially dangerous to each other. Honestly, Robert was lucky that Stannis only had a few broken bones.

Instead of finding Joffrey or Myrcella, Sansa went to her room and threw herself on the bed. She wasn’t about to go to sleep quite yet, but she didn’t really know what to do with herself.

How could Stannis stand it? Staying in Robert’s house after what he had done? Tolerating Joffrey’s pranks and putting up with nurses that couldn’t even boil water properly?

_No wonder he’s grumpy._

_But he stopped being quite as grumpy with me after we had that talk earlier today,_ Sansa reminded herself. He hadn’t been sunshine and rainbows, but he hadn’t barked at her, either. In fact, he’d been a perfectly well-behaved patient. The only odd thing he’d done after their ‘heart-to-heart’ was refuse to let her come in right away when she had offered to help him get ready for the night.

He had looked flushed when he had finally admitted her, and his knee had been raised under the covers. It had made her think - for a fleeting second - that he was trying to hide... something. 

Once, when she had been thirteen, she had gone into Jon’s bedroom before breakfast for some stupid reason. She could still remember quite clearly how he had turned a deep shade of red and raised one knee under his bedcovers just like Stannis had. When she had told Robb about it later that day, feeling confused and hurt by the way Jon had yelled for her to get out, Robb had laughed himself sick and hinted that Jon had been suffering from morning wood. Now that Sansa was more experienced in the ways of the world, she was inclined to think Robb had been right. 

It was hard to believe Stannis could have been experiencing morning wood, though. (Wrong time of day, for one thing.) And since he hadn’t seemed very embarrassed when they had started to talk about the skiing accident, Sansa was sure she had just been imagining things.

Her heart sped up a little as she considered the matter, and she wondered what she’d do if she actually ever _did_ catch Stannis experiencing such a… condition in the course of her duties.

There had been a badly injured man at the hospital she volunteered at in Winterfell who routinely popped a boner whenever she came to his room. His injuries had prevented him from being able to speak, so she had always just assumed that he was sorry about it and ignored it, but once he had tried to jerk himself off while she’d been reading. She had stopped agreeing to read to him after that.

Would she be able to just ignore it if it happened to Stannis? 

She blushed as her disturbed brain pelted her with images of Stannis in Mr. Frey’s place, furiously moving his hand under the covers, staring at her without a hint of shame or remorse while she tried to avert her eyes in abject mortification. The memory made her regret the way she had thoughtlessly offered to read to Stannis. What if it actually happened?

Cersei’s words came back to her, however, and calmed her down. _“You could probably give him a sponge bath in the nude and he wouldn’t so much as glance down.”_

 _Maybe he’s gay?_ Sansa wondered for a moment. _Maybe that’s what Cersei meant?_ Sansa thought about it, but pushed the idea away fairly soon. Renly was gay. Everyone knew that. If Stannis were gay too, she was sure she’d know about it. Sansa wasn’t sure any straight man could be as disinterested in naked girls as Cersei had implied, but she was at least fairly sure that Stannis was nothing like creepy Mr. Frey. Anyway, even if he wanted to be like Mr. Frey - though Sansa couldn’t imagine why - he probably couldn’t. The pain and the painkillers probably made it difficult for him to get an… to get worked up. _Besides, he can’t use his hands._

Sansa bit her lip as a powerful wave of sympathy rose up within her, making her heart ache. She wasn’t sure how well she would cope with constant pain and helplessness. Needing a distraction, Sansa found her Kindle and opened an electronic book - a murder mystery set in Lys - and did her best to to get lost in the story.

By the time she went to sleep she had put all matters of morning wood, sexual orientations, and the memory of Mr. Frey firmly from her mind.


	4. The Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Joffrey will be... Joffrey in this chapter.

“What are you doing?” Stannis asked, observing Sansa with narrowed eyes. She had just finished feeding him his lunch, and now she had returned to his room with her hands hidden behind her back, and a strange expression on her face. She looked shy and excited and a little uncertain, and Stannis really didn’t know what to make of it.

“I found your book,” she said, revealing his first edition copy of _All Quiet on the Western Front._ She was holding it very gently, which he appreciated, but what did she intend to do? Read to him?

_What else is she going to do with it, dimwit?_

Stannis blinked at her in disbelief. He hadn’t thought she had been serious when she had made the offer yesterday.

“Do you want to keep sitting, or should I adjust the bed so that you can lie down?”

“I want to keep sitting,” he said, clearing his throat. His mouth was very dry.

Sansa brought him a glass of water without a word, and helped him drink. After that, she pulled up a chair and made herself comfortable with his book. She stroked the cover almost reverently, and Stannis closed his eyes and let himself remember how it felt when she stroked his skin like that. The way she had touched him after his shave yesterday was still fresh in his memory. He shivered.

“Just tell me if I’m not doing it right,” Sansa said, her voice like honey.

He managed a nod, and she began to read.

Stannis had never heard this book read out loud. He had started listening to an audiobook once, but it had been read by a man, and it had been all wrong -- it hadn’t sounded like the voice in Stannis’ head at all. Sansa didn’t sound like the voice in his head either, but there was something so right about the way she caressed each word, the way she paused in all the right places, and the way she breathed.

He felt hypnotised. Transfixed.

“How am I doing so far?” Sansa asked at the end of the first chapter, smiling nervously at him.

He was compelled to clear his throat again. “You - you have a good reading voice,” he said, hoping that she would stay and keep reading. He’d listen to her read the damn phone book.

Her eyes widened a little, and she blushed in a way that did not seem to have anything to do with embarrassment. She looked… pleased. Flattered.

Compliments and flattery usually always seemed like superficial drivel to him. Useless, false chatter in day to day communication. _But this is what compliments are for,_ Stannis thought, a warm feeling settling in his chest as he observed her expression. He wished he could think of more things to say: things that would keep her looking at him like that.

Beautiful. Kind. Lovely.

_She’s heard it a million times before. Don’t make a fool of yourself._

She read him another chapter, and he kept quiet, savouring every word she spoke. Whenever their eyes met, he felt like she understood him.

He barely needed his pain medication when the time came for his next dose.

***

Sansa’s days went by quickly once she and Stannis settled into their routine. She took care of his needs with her naturally sunny disposition, and he usually remembered his clipped courtesies in return.

He only really became impatient with her when she helped him wash. She didn’t take it personally anymore as she had realised, after giving the matter some thought, that he probably just really disliked feeling vulnerable.

She supposed she would feel vulnerable too, if Stannis ever held a razor to her throat.

She had also learnt that he liked a bit of privacy after she finished washing his hair, and that he really didn’t like it if she tried to take his towel away from him without asking first. This, Sansa supposed, had something to do with his proud nature. He was capable of putting his towel in the hamper without her help, so of course he wanted to do it. He liked doing things without help if he could.

His mood was usually decent when she brought him his meals, but his disposition was always at its best during their walks and when she read to him.

She could still remember the surprised look in his eyes when she had settled next to him after lunch one day instead of rushing down to the pool, his first edition copy of _All Quiet on the Western Front_ held carefully in her hands. He hadn’t expected her to actually read to him. She had been able to read that in his face just as plainly as she could read the title of the book. He had thought she hadn’t meant it when she had first made the offer.

_“You have a good reading voice.”_

It was the only compliment he had given her in the past week, and Sansa still felt a bit warm when she thought of it. It felt like an achievement to get him to say something like that. Almost as good as getting a compliment from her father, who usually never noticed her very much.

“Nice.”

Sansa started and looked up from the book she had been looking at. She hadn’t really been reading it; her thoughts had been occupying her mind too fully to allow the words on the page to penetrate.

It was Joffrey. _Oh, gods, oh, gods!_

“Nice?” she repeated, sounding stupid to even to her own ears. 

Joffrey smirked. _Like James Dean…_ “Yeah, your dress. I like it.”

Sansa followed Joffrey’s eyes to the short hemline of her dress, and noticed with a blush that it had ridden up to an unladylike extent. She didn’t pull it down, however. Joffrey liked it. This was the first time in nearly a week since he’d spoken to her.

“Thank you,” she said, wondering whether she should get up from the sofa.

“You should wear it tomorrow night. I’m going to the movies. You can come if you want.”

“Yes, of course!” She winced. “I mean, thank you for inviting me. I’d love to go.”

“Cool. Be ready at eight.”

***

Sansa’s feet barely touched the ground as she went through her morning routine, hardly paying attention to Stannis’ usual grumpy greeting. She just _knew_ \- that tonight would be the night. Joffrey would take her to the movies, and then he’d see what a perfect match they would make, and it would be the start of the sort of romance people wrote books about.

“You’re smiling,” Stannis said, looking at her from his seated position in bed.

“Am I?” Sansa said, her face aching from the way she had been beaming ever since she woke up.

Stannis gave her a slightly irritated look. “Why are you smiling?”

“I smile all the time,” she said, getting his first dose of medication ready so that he’d be able to take it with breakfast.

“Not like this.”

“I’m happy,” Sansa admitted, pouring him a glass of water.

Stannis narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, loading a fork with a piece of omelette and preparing to feed it to her patient.

Stannis turned his head, wordlessly indicating that he wouldn’t eat it. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered.

His bad manners couldn’t ruin her mood, though. “I’m going on a date tonight!” she blurted, no longer able to keep the words locked inside. She was about to add that it was with Joffrey when she remembered that Stannis didn’t like his nephew. Her happiness faded a little as she recalled the things Stannis had said about some of Joffrey’s previous girlfriends. _That was probably all taken out of context,_ she reminded herself firmly.

His lips became a very tight, very thin line, but he didn’t say anything.

She offered the fork in silence, and this time he opened his mouth. Once he had chewed and swallowed, he asked, “Do you… date much?” The question seemed to pain him.

Sansa felt flattered that he was trying to be polite and show an interest in her life, so she decided to answer the question honestly rather than deflect it or say something meaningless.

“Not _very_ much,” she said, “but I’ve had my share of boyfriends. Only one really serious relationship, though.”

Stannis nodded once, frowning slightly, and looked at the omelette. She fed him another bite.

“I’m hoping that tonight will lead to something even more serious, though,” Sansa confided, glad to have someone to talk to about this. Stannis wasn’t Jeyne or Randa, but he’d do in a pinch. “I’ve been hoping to catch this guy’s attention for a long time.”

Stannis’ expression suddenly turned sour, and Sansa looked worriedly at the omelette. Had the cook put capers in there again? Stannis didn’t like capers.

“I’m full. You can go.”

Startled, Sansa stopped looking for capers in favour of searching his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His tone was cold and harsh, his expression stony.

Sansa didn’t dare argue. She left as quickly as she could, her stomach shrinking with worry.

Was Stannis mad at her? Had she said the wrong thing? Or was he just in a bad mood?

Sansa took the leftovers of Stannis’ omelette to the kitchen, and explained to the heartbroken cook that Stannis hadn’t been hungry. She suggested the lemon butter salmon for lunch. It had been a week since the cook had made it, and it had worked to improve Stannis’ mood back then. Maybe it would work again?

It didn’t.

Stannis ate it, but he barely spoke to Sansa as she fed him. He barely _looked_ at her. He didn’t want her to read to him, and was withdrawn when she took him for a walk. It was really quite worrying, and Sansa promised herself that if he behaved the same way tomorrow, she would go to Robert and ask him to speak to Stannis. Not that she really believed that would help. Stannis wasn’t overly fond of his brother. But maybe Stannis had a problem that he couldn’t discuss with a young woman, and maybe it was something Robert would be able to help with. Sansa couldn’t rule it out.

The knot of worry in her stomach was still making her queasy by the time she had finished feeding Stannis his dinner, and not even the thought of her date with Joffrey could banish the feeling entirely.

She forgot all about Stannis’ dark mood when she actually _saw_ Joffrey in the foyer, though.

_Gods, he’s gorgeous._

His golden hair was impeccably styled, thick and lustrous. His green eyes were alive, sparkling with good humour. His physique was something out of a fashion magazine: all lean, long limbs and casual grace, and his clothing made him look even more the part of a male model. It was all bespoke design - made to fit him like a glove - Sansa was sure of it.

“Ready to go?” he asked, the left corner of his lips lifting slightly.

Sansa nodded, too breathless to speak.

This was it. This was the starting point of the rest of her life as Mrs. Joffrey Baratheon.

Joffrey opened the front door for her, his manners flawless as he led her to his car.

Sansa followed him in a trance, floating on air. But when Joffrey opened the door to the backseat of his flashy Porsche Cayenne, Sansa paused.

She glanced at the front seat and was shocked to see the ‘it girl’ of Westeros, Margaery Tyrell, sitting there.

“Is something wrong?” Joffrey asked, his tone impatient.

Sansa’s eyes slid from Margaery’s profile to a shadowy figure in the backseat. Whoever it was was _huge._

“What’s going on?” she asked, her heart sinking.

Joffrey looked at her expression, a gleam of delight appearing in his eyes.

“Oh, you thought you were going on a date with me?” he asked, cruel laughter in his voice. “You didn’t know I’m going out with Margaery?”

Sansa shook her head mutely, feeling her blood turn to ice.

“You’re really dumb, aren’t you? Perfect for Gregor. He likes them nice and stupid. And subservient.” Joffrey leaned in close, whispering his next words into her ear. “He’ll be expecting you to put out tonight, you know. And he likes to rape girls in the ass if they don’t let him have his way. Actually, come to think of it… he just likes raping girls in the ass.”

“I’m not going,” Sansa said at once, taking a step back and shaking her head. Her heart felt as if she’d been _stabbed._

“But you promised,” Joffrey said, practically gleeful.

“I’m breaking the promise,” Sansa said, her heart twisting and writhing in her chest.

“Oh, come off it. I was joking!” Joffrey said, grabbing her wrist and starting to drag her closer to the car. “Gregor’s a gentleman. He’ll know not to expect more than a blowjob on the first date.”

Sansa wrenched her wrist away from Joffrey and slapped him. Then, with tears stinging her eyes, she turned around and ran back to the house, slamming the door behind her once she was safely inside.

She couldn’t believe it. Any of it. Any moment now she would wake up and this would all have been a nightmare.

 _I slapped my employer’s son,_ she realised, feeling faint. _I’ll probably have to go home._

The tears that had been threatening to fall started to spill down her cheeks. She needed to get to her room. She should probably start packing.

Everything was ruined.

***

Stannis was lying awake, brooding in the dark. Sansa had offered to give him his cocktail of medication and help him get ready for bed before she left for her _date_ , but he had told her that he wanted to stay up. She had agreed to prepare everything so that Maria would be able to help him. Just this once.

He heard her pass his room on her way down to the foyer. He heard the front door close.

She was gone.

Gone on a date with a ‘guy’ she was deeply interested in, judging by what she had told him this morning. She wanted things to get serious with this ‘guy’. She was not at all interested in invalids with receding hairlines.

He had always known this of course, but for some utterly incomprehensibly reason he had convinced himself that over the past week she had been showing signs of… liking him. She was always smiling at him, and she usually always stayed with him much longer than she was required to. It had been _her_ idea to read to him.

At the back of his mind he had started to concoct a vague plan. A plan that involved him being physically whole, them both being dressed up, and a restaurant with lemon cake on the dessert menu. She’d told him it was her favourite.

_Fool._

He started when he heard the front door fly open and then slam shut. _What in the… ?_

Listening as hard as he could, he was soon rewarded with more sounds reaching his ears. Someone was climbing the stairs. It sounded like Sansa’s light feet, but that couldn’t be right… she had only left for her date a minute or two ago.

When whoever it was came closer to his door he decided to find out.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

Whoever it was stopped. There was a moment of silence, and then, “Sansa.”

Something about her voice didn’t sound right. She sounded… upset.

 _Of course she’s upset,_ he scolded himself, clenching his jaw shut. Something had clearly gone wrong with her date if she was back after less than five minutes. He should probably feel bad about the warm feeling of relief that coursed through him at the thought. It was not good form to be pleased when Sansa was upset.

“Could you come in here, please?” he asked, trying to phrase the request as politely as he could.

There was another pause, and Stannis thought he heard a sniff. “I’d rather not. Unless it’s important.”

“It’s important.”

His door opened a few beats later, and Sansa stood in the doorway, looking breathtaking in a clingy, short blue dress.

Stannis swallowed and made himself focus on her face rather than her long, shapely legs.

“What is it?” she asked, her tone subdued, her eyes downcast. There were streaks of mascara on her face.

“You’re crying,” he said, not answering her question. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sansa said, hugging herself protectively.

“Did your date attack you?” Stannis asked, fearing the worst.

Sansa shook her head, and a fresh tear made its way down her cheek. “Please, just tell me what you need. I’d like to go to my room.”

“I need to know what happened to you,” he snapped, fear and alarm consuming him.

Sansa’s shoulders shook, and a small sob escaped her. “I - I...” she stammered, her voice full of tears. “I agreed to go out with Joffrey tonight. I didn’t realise he wasn’t asking me out for himself. He wanted me to go out with his friend -- Greg something. Joffrey said I would be expected to - to sleep with that guy. So I slapped Joffrey and went back to the house. I’ll probably have to leave tomorrow. But I’m sure Robert will find you a new nurse.” The whole speech came rushing out along with several sobs, and Stannis had to concentrate quite hard to understand her. Sansa was still shaking at the end of it, but she wasn’t crying as much anymore.

Stannis stared at her, unable to believe his ears. Of course he believed that Joffrey had been a little shit, but it was hard to believe Sansa - sweet, gentle Sansa - had slapped him.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Stannis said once he’d processed her words. “You’re the only competent person Robert has been able to hire.”

Sansa made a noise that was halfway between a sob and a laugh, and finally raised her eyes from the floor to meet his. Amusement and heartbreak shone from those blue depths, and she gave him a tiny smile.

“Thank you,” she said, “but I doubt Robert will want me to stay now that I’ve assaulted his son.”

Robert wouldn’t give two shits, Stannis knew. It was Cersei Sansa should be worrying about.

“Let me take care of it,” Stannis said, already organising his arguments at the back of his mind.

Sansa moved closer, and touched his shoulder lightly. “You don’t have to,” she said, her voice quiet, “I don’t think I really want to stay in the same house as Joffrey after this.”

She took a step back, withdrawing her hand. Stannis wished she would keep touching him.

They were quiet for a long moment, and Stannis stared at her, trying to think of a solution. He didn’t want her to go. It had only been a week, but he was convinced that he needed her to stay in his life for as long as possible.

At least long enough for him to convince her to let him take her to dinner once he was out of these bloody casts.

“Would you consider staying if we moved to another house?” he asked, blurting the idea out as soon as it occurred to him.

Sansa went very still. “What house?”

“I have a house on Dragonstone. It’s not as glamorous as this place, and there’s not much to do on the island, but Joffrey wouldn’t be there.”

Sansa frowned. “Why are you recovering here if you could have stayed there?”

“I wanted to, but Robert couldn’t find a willing live-in nurse,” Stannis admitted. “The ferry isn’t always reliable, so anyone responsible for taking care of me would need to live on the island. Preferably in the house.”

“Oh, I understand,” Sansa said, nodding.

There was a long silence.

“So?” Stannis eventually said, impatient and absurdly nervous. “Would you consider it?”

“I - I… I don’t know,” Sansa stammered, looking at him with her eyes wide open.

Stannis scowled and looked away, bitterness settling in his broken bones. _Of course she doesn’t want to live on Dragonstone. No one does._ “I didn’t think you were the sort of person who reneged on a contract,” he said, his voice cold.

“I’m sorry, but this is a lot to take in,” Sansa said, sounding a little indignant. “You can’t just expect me to make up my mind on the spot. Let me think about it.”

A spark of hope flared up before he could squash it. It was foolish, but he couldn’t help it. If she was willing to think about it, there was still a chance…

“Fine. Think about it.”

“I will.”

There was another stretch of silence.

“May I go now?” Sansa asked, her tone polite, but tired. She looked exhausted.

Stannis considered asking her to help him get ready for sleep so that Maria wouldn’t have to do it, but he couldn’t make himself say the words.

“Yes.”

She left without looking back.


	5. Teeth and Claws

It was a good thing Stannis hadn’t asked Sansa to help him get ready to sleep. He realised very shortly after she left that he needed to talk to Robert before Joffrey got back to the house and the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan.

Luckily, Robert had been willing to come and have a chat. 

They had been talking for a while now, going over and over everything Sansa had told Stannis. His brother was being his obtuse self, and Stannis was rapidly losing his patience. He knew he didn’t have much longer to convince Robert. Soon Joffrey would be back, wanting revenge for the slap Sansa had served him, and he’d go to his mother for help. Cersei was a useless drunk most of the time, but when it came to her children she had claws and teeth aplenty.

He could not afford to waste any more time.

“Don’t you understand? He intended to let Gregor Clegane have his way with her,” Stannis said, looking Robert straight in the eyes. “You know what that man is. You saw the last girl he accosted.”

Robert went pale. “You’re absolutely sure of this? _Gregor?_ Not Sandor?” he asked, anxiety in his expression where there should have been fury. Robert had never managed to learn how to cope with Joffrey’s misdeeds. He tried to turn a blind eye whenever he could, and usually threw money at whatever problem turned up if a blind eye didn’t work.

Stannis watched as Robert paced around his sick room, running his hands through his hair and tugging at his beard. He didn’t feel a lick of sympathy for him. “Yes. I’m certain.”

“Joffrey wanted to do that to Ned’s girl? Give her to _Gregor?_ ”

“Yes.”

Robert sat down in the chair Sansa usually sat in when she read out loud. He seemed to sag.

“And she actually slapped the cunt?” Robert asked for the third time, no longer amused like he’d been the first time. “Cersei won’t like that.”

“Forget Cersei,” Stannis said sharply. “What are you going to do about your _son?_ ”

“I - I don’t know.” Robert rubbed his face, looking tired and defeated. “That boy is going to put me in an early fucking grave,” he added, under his breath.

Stannis waited. It would be better if Robert asked for his advice before he attempted to give it. Robert never liked it when Stannis tried to tell him what to do.

“What do you suggest?” Robert finally asked, sounding more tired than ever.

“Send him to Lannisport,” Stannis said at once. It was not a new suggestion. He’d made it often enough in the past. “If Tywin can’t straighten him out, no one will be able to.”

Robert grimaced. “Joffrey hates spending time with his grandfather.”

“That’s because his grandfather doesn’t spoil him like Cersei does.”

“Cersei won’t want -”

“You owe me, Robert.”

They stared at each other. Robert looked away, shame evident in his gaze.

“Fine,” Robert finally said. sighing. “But you know Cersei is going to start going on about suing. What are we to tell her? The girl did assault Joffrey.”

“Remind her that our lawyers were barely able to keep Joffrey out of jail after what he did to that Ros girl. She almost lost a damn eye. Tell her I could expose him to the world if I wished, but that I have refrained from doing so out of respect for you and because it’s our family name that’s going to get dragged through the mud if the press gets wind of what a sadistic little shit he is.” Stannis glared. “And perhaps you should also remind _yourself_ that you promised to get him under control months ago.” _Years ago, really._

Robert sighed again, nodded, and got up to leave. He was almost out the door before Stannis spoke again.

“Robert."

“Yes?”

“Make sure Joffrey’s gone from this house before Sansa wakes up.”

***

Sansa woke up in pain. A sharp, burning sensation along her scalp made her cry out, even as she struggled to gain full consciousness.

“Get out of my house,” Cersei Lannister hissed, pulling on Sansa’s hair so hard that her upper body ended up supported by nothing but thin air. She reeled back when Cersei let go of her hair, trying to regain her balance, gasping for breath.

“I’ll go,” she whimpered, trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. Cersei was mad. Why was she mad? _Joffrey. I slapped Joffrey._ It hadn’t just been a bad dream. Sansa took a deep breath and tried to think quickly. Needing to buy time nonetheless, she looked down at herself, searching for ideas.“Just - just let me get dressed.”

“None of that. You can remain in what you’re wearing now.”

Cersei stood back and watched with cool indifference as Sansa scrambled out of bed, shivering in her tiny shorts and tank top.

She didn’t understand. Well, she understood that Cersei must have found out about the slapping, but it seemed insane for her to want to drag her out of the house in the middle of the night. Of course, Cersei had never been very friendly, but she hadn’t acted like _this._

“Where am I to go?” Sansa asked, looking anxiously at Cersei.

“Do you think I care?” Cersei asked, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “You assaulted my son. If it were up to me, you’d be going to the nearest police station.”

Sansa didn’t dare ask more questions after that. She just followed Cersei out into the corridor, hugging herself for warmth. King’s Landing was a hot place, but it could get very cold during the night.

Fear seized her as they got closer to the stairs. Was Cersei really going to send her out of the house wearing next to nothing? Without money, I.D., or shoes? What would happen to Stannis? What would happen to her things?

_What will happen to me? Alone in the street?_

Cersei was silent as she herded Sansa towards the front door, and Sansa had never before heard such an oppressive, cruel silence. Begging to be allowed to stay - or at least get her purse - crossed her mind more than once, but she felt too numb to speak. Too scared.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, woman?” A loud, frightening voice suddenly bellowed.

“What you should have done the minute Joffrey told us what happened, you coward,” Cersei spat without missing a beat.

Robert was standing at the foot of the grand staircase, blocking the path to the foyer, looking a little wild with his beard untamed and the tie of his robe flapping uselessly at his sides. The robe hung open, revealing a hairy chest, a protruding belly, and a pair of cotton pyjama bottoms that could do with being pulled up a little higher.

“That is Ned Stark’s daughter!” Robert roared, loudly enough to wake the dead.

“She assaulted our son. Humiliated him in front of his friend and his girlfriend.”

Robert barked out a mocking laugh. “The little cunt deserved it.”

“If you can send Joffrey away, I can send her away,” Cersei declared coldly.

“Stannis told me that he’s offered to go to Dragonstone and take her with him. She can stay until she makes up her mind about whether she wants to go, damn you.”

“No. I want her sued for assault, and I want her out. _Now._ ”

“In her fucking underwear? What’s wrong with you?” Robert took Sansa’s arm and started to march her back towards her room. She bit back a whimper; he had a painfully tight grip. Cersei got in his way, however.

“Get out of my way, Cersei. Or I swear to each and every one of the gods, woman -”

“What? What are you going to do?” Cersei asked, her voice ice cold. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and narrowed her eyes: beautiful and terrifying all at once.

It happened faster than Sansa would have believed. She felt Robert let her arm go, and then she heard the sickening fleshy sound of a violent backhand. Cersei recovered quickly, however, and was glaring at Robert before Sansa had properly processed what had happened. 

There was a look in Cersei’s eyes that was both vulnerable and venomous, both broken and not. It made Sansa’s stomach turn. 

“I’ll remember that,” Cersei whispered, turning around and striding off.

A long awkward silence fell between Sansa and Robert once Cersei was gone.

Sansa shivered, and Robert awkwardly belted his robe shut.

“Don’t worry about her. Stannis and I talked it all through. We won’t let her or Joffrey sue anyone. I’m sending him to Lannisport for the rest of the summer. Maybe his grandfather will be able to teach him some manners.” Robert rubbed his face and sighed. “He’s leaving in a few hours at the ass crack of dawn. It’s all taken care of. Cersei just - she just wanted to humiliate you, I think. Bleeding bitch.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, not quite able to meet Robert’s eyes. She had never seen a man hit a woman like that. She didn’t like Cersei very much, but it had been awful to witness the way Robert had backhanded her. Awful and horribly unsettling. She hadn’t thought Robert was that sort of man. He always seemed so harmless before… so friendly and genial.

 _No, not harmless,_ Sansa reminded herself. _He’s the reason Stannis is in casts._

“You should try to get some more sleep.”

She nodded, and Robert walked her to her room and bid her a good night at the door. 

Sansa got into bed, grateful to find that her covers were still warm.

 _Joffrey will be gone when I wake up,_ she thought with relief, tugging her covers to her chin and wriggling around. _Maybe I won’t have to go to Dragonstone after all?_ She and Stannis would be able to stay right here, and Sansa could continue to spend time with Myrcella…

Her scalp sent her a twinge of pain, and the sounds of Cersei’s cruel voice and Robert’s vicious backhand replayed in her memory.

 _No,_ she decided, her insides turning cold, _I can’t stay in this house._

But did she want to keep caring for Stannis? She could always just go back to Winterfell. Perhaps that would be the simplest solution. Someone else could be found to take care of Stannis, surely?

Sansa turned to lie on her side, trying to escape the guilty weight that seemed to be pressing down on her chest.

 _I can’t leave him._ It didn’t feel right to even think about it. He deserved better than to be stuck in this awful house with Robert and Cersei. He was definitely very grumpy, and he had behaved very strangely since the omelette that hadn’t had any capers, but he had believed her about Joffrey. He had been on her side.

Eventually, after thinking it over and over and _over_ , Sansa decided to sleep on the matter. Things always seemed clearer by the light of day.

***

Dragonstone Island, of all places, was certainly _not_ what Sansa had signed up for when she had left Winterfell.

She had planned for King’s Landing: sunlight, pools, and flirting with Joffrey.

_If only I’d known…_

She hadn’t packed anything appropriate for Dragonstone. It was a cold, dreary place, suitable for people who wore blacks and greys and muddy browns. She stood out like a sore thumb in her soothing blues, bright whites and tasteful pastels.

 _But it doesn’t matter,_ she told herself, lifting her last dress from her suitcase and arranging it on a hanger. _This is the right place for me._ She was sure of it. It was the only decision that had felt good to her. The mere thought of abandoning Stannis and going to Winterfell still made her feel ill with guilt.

Sansa stood back and admired her dresses and shirts, all neatly on hangers and systematically arranged based on length, colour, and the presence or lack of sleeves. There was plenty of room for each article of clothing as her room had an enormous walk-in closet. Stannis had actually given her the next largest room in the building. The room was unoccupied since he wasn’t married, but it still felt incredibly odd to stay in the suite that had throughout history belonged to the lady of the house. However, Sansa understood why he’d given her this particular room. It was close to the master bedroom, making it easy for her to get to him if he needed anything at an odd hour, and there was even a door that connected the rooms from the inside. In the event of an emergency, this would save time. She was not planning to tell her mother about this detail, however. Catelyn Stark was old fashioned, and would worry about the propriety of a man and a woman sleeping in such close proximity when there was no romantic relationship in place -- no promises, no rings. Even though Stannis was bedridden and not the sort of person who would ever do anything improper, she’d probably still fret.

There were a lot of things that had happened in the past two days that Sansa would probably never tell her mother - and definitely not her father - about. Like the disgusting things Joffrey had said, the way Cersei had tried to drag her out of bed, and how Robert had _hit_ Cersei. It hadn’t been anything like the slap Sansa had given Joffrey. That had just… happened. She hadn’t been able to stop herself, and she knew it had been wrong of her to resort to violence. Robert had been deliberate. Deliberate, and frighteningly callous. Sansa would never forget the look on Cersei’s face.

And now here she was. Practically living alone with a man she had only known for little more than a week, in a scary old house on a scary old island. Trapped whenever the weather kept the ferry from being able to make the journey.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had nothing to be afraid of.

With another calming breath, Sansa put her empty suitcase away and looked around her new room to make sure nothing was out of place. This room was not as inviting or luxurious as her room at Robert’s house, but the furniture and the art on the walls had a certain… severe weight that Sansa felt was impressive, if not welcoming.

Feeling strangely fluttery, and almost as if she were misbehaving, she knocked on the door that connected her room to Stannis’.

“Come in,” Stannis said on the other side of the door.

He looked much the same as he had looked in Robert’s house, though less tense, perhaps. More at home.

 _Of course he looks more at home. He is at home._ Sansa inwardly rolled her eyes at herself and fixed a smile on her face.

“Settling in?” she asked, her tone perhaps a touch too bright.

“Yes. You?”

“My room is so big,” Sansa said, fidgeting a little with her hair. “I wish I had a closet that size at home. Thank you.”

Stannis cleared his throat and nodded. She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and noted that his throat was covered in stubble. She knew she’d need to give him a shave soon. When she looked up towards his eyes, she was a bit startled to find that he was staring at her, his gaze intense.

For a long moment she did nothing but stare back, her stomach doing somersaults.

“I’m sorry about Cersei,” Stannis eventually said, looking solemn. “Robert informed me of her attempt to oust you from the house a few nights ago this morning. If I had known sooner I would have tried to hasten our departure.”

Sansa blinked, wondering if Robert had told Stannis about the domestic violence, too.

Stannis hesitated, but spoke again. “She will not be able to sue you, you have my word. Nor will Joffrey.”

Sansa wasn’t worried about that. “Robert hit her,” she blurted out.

“And you hit Joffrey,” Stannis said, sighing.

“It was different,” Sansa said, echoing her thoughts from before. “I wanted to take it back as soon as I did it. I don’t think Robert would take it back if he could.”

“Robert… Robert has a lot of trouble controlling himself.” Stannis frowned.

“He almost got you _killed_ on that ski trip,” Sansa said quietly. “Maybe he should see someone. Or… I don’t know. Go to rehab, maybe?”

Stannis sighed and looked out the window. “I’m sure you’re aware of how these things work. He has to want to go himself.”

Sansa nodded. She did know how these things worked. “I hope he doesn’t kill or injure anyone beyond repair before he figures out that he needs help,” she said, unable to disguise the righteous anger in her voice. Robert’s behaviour wasn’t fair. His lack of control was hurting other people. Hurting _Stannis._

“Knowing him, he’ll end up killing himself before he figures that out,” Stannis muttered darkly, looking at her once more.

Sansa hugged herself around the middle and stared at him, unable to tear her eyes away from his stormy expression. Her righteous anger was already fading, and a sense of sadness and pity was creeping up on her instead. Robert probably didn’t _want_ to be like he was. He was broken where no casts could reach.

She and Stannis were quiet for a long time after that.

***

Life at Dragonstone became easy and familiar very quickly. Stannis had a cook and a housekeeper, though the cook didn’t come to work during weekends, and the housekeeper only came twice a week. They were a big help nonetheless, and it was fairly easy to figure out a schedule that kept Stannis fed, and the house clean.

It was harder to take Stannis on proper walks due to all the staircases, but Stannis insisted on Sansa taking him up and down the second floor corridor once a day, and out to the spacious balcony if the weather allowed.

Four days after they arrived on Dragonstone the weather was particularly nice, and Sansa had opened the window in Stannis’ room to let the fresh air and the warm rays of the afternoon sun in. She knew they’d be going to the balcony later, and looked forward to it.

“I’d like to increase your wages,” Stannis said, the words coming suddenly, and out of nowhere.

“Oh,” Sansa said, opening her eyes and blinking at Stannis. “Are you sure? You’re very generous already.”

“I only matched what Robert was paying you. But Dragonstone is not King’s Landing. You do not have access to any of the… perks you enjoyed there.” He glanced at her, obviously trying to gauge her reaction. “I’ve given the matter a great deal of thought, and I think your wages should increase by twenty percent, at least.”

Sansa’s family wasn’t poor, but her father never gave her very much personal spending money. If she wanted something, she always had to ask, and she always had to have a good reason. It would be nice to be able to buy the things she wanted without jumping through hoops first. That was part of the reason she had been eager to take this job in the first place: pocket money.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’d appreciate that.”

Stannis clenched his jaw and nodded, looking away from her. Sansa immediately got the sense that something about her response was bothering him. She furrowed her brow and tried to think what it might be. Hadn’t he wanted her to accept the raise? He had been the one to bring it up…

What else could it be?

“I don’t mind,” she said at length, testing the waters.

Stannis glanced at her, eyes wary.

“I mean,” Sansa said, her words hesitant, “I don’t miss the ‘perks’ of King’s Landing. It’s nice here.”

Stannis snorted, but he seemed less tense.

“Really,” Sansa said, smiling at him. “I’m guessing it can get pretty lonely out here, but I really do think it’s nice. Peaceful.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his disbelief and suspicion slowly fading away. “It’s nothing compared to Storm’s End,” he said, looking out the window now.

“That’s where you grew up, right?” Sansa was fairly sure Stannis had mentioned that at some point.

“Yes. It’s where Renly lives.” Stannis scowled. “Robert and I need to be closer to the office.”

“Oh, I see.” She could sense that Storm’s End was a sore subject, so she decided to steer them back to Dragonstone. “Well, I’d love to visit Storm’s End one day, but Dragonstone is just fine for now.”

“You’re not… bored?” he asked, grimacing slightly.

Sansa smiled, remembering something she had read once, and taken to heart. She couldn’t remember the exact words, so she paraphrased for Stannis. “I read somewhere that boredom is a useless thing to feel. We live in a huge world that we’ve barely explored, and when we can’t explore the outside world, we still have our own minds to keep us busy. The fact that we’re alive is precious, and it seems ungrateful to waste our lives complaining that we’re bored.”

Stannis blinked at her, clearly taken aback.

“Anyway, the internet connection is quite good,” Sansa added, grinning.

“There’s not much to be done online,” Stannis said, speaking as if this was a well known fact.

“What are you talking about?” Sansa felt very surprised. The internet was quite as vast as the universe. There was always some entertainment to be found.

Stannis frowned, obviously disliking her tone. “Well, once you finish checking your emails and the news, there’s not much else, is there?” His face reddened a little, but his expression remained obtuse.

“Not much else? Are you serious?” Sansa had never felt quite as incredulous. Was Stannis really trying to convince her that he didn’t use the internet for anything except email and the news? Not even porn?

She blushed at the stray thought, recalling the horribly uncomfortable visions she’d had about Stannis doing what Mr. Frey had done when she had been reading to him. It felt incredibly wrong to think about Stannis watching porn or masturbating.

“What else should I be doing?” Stannis asked defensively.

“Reading blogs! Watching youtube videos! Looking things up on Wikipedia and Googling random stuff!”

“Is that what you like doing?” Stannis tilted his head to the side.

Sansa felt herself blush more intensely. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

“And at other times?”

“I - I like reading stories. By amateur writers.” _Oh, gods. Why did I tell him that?_ Stannis did not need to know about her penchant for trashy fanfic. She had been cutting back lately - so that she’d have more time to spend on her passion for actual books - but it was still a guilty pleasure.

Stannis looked intrigued. “What sort of stories?”

“Just silly romantic ones,” she said in a rush, wishing that she hadn’t brought it up. “You wouldn’t like them.”

Stannis’ look of intrigue turned to one of indignance. “You don’t know that.”

Sansa crossed her arms. “Are you saying you’d like a romance novel?”

His face reddened more deeply, which made Sansa feel better about her own hot cheeks. “Probably not. But I’ve never read one, so I don’t really know. If _I_ don’t know, you certainly don’t, either. To claim that you do is just not correct,” he said, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

It was quite difficult to keep from rolling her eyes. Stannis could be an incredible stickler for petty details.

“Let’s find out, then,” Sansa said, grabbing her phone from her back pocket and quickly looking up a fic she had bookmarked. She doubted Stannis had ever watched Labyrinth, so he’d be unlikely to realise that ‘Sarah’ and ‘Jareth’ were characters from a movie.

It was a relatively tame story, but there was a lot of unresolved sexual tension.

She started to read out loud, glancing frequently at Stannis’ face to gauge his reaction.

At first he looked a little startled, but as she read on, his expression became thoughtful, and then almost impossible to discern.

“... Jareth couldn’t take his eyes off her. He had waited for five long years, using his crystals to watch from afar as Sarah had grown more mature… more confident. More beautiful. Perhaps it had not been very polite of him to watch her even as she bathed, droplets of water cascading down over her flawless curves, her hands caressing her alabaster skin as she washed herself clean... but she had cast him as a villain, had she not? Not a white knight. But villain or knight, she was meant to be his, and it was infuriating that she was resisting him. She did not belong in the world above. She belonged here, in the Underground, with him. He would make her his if it was the last thing he did, and claim her in every way it was possible for a king to claim his queen.”

Sansa paused. She had grown engrossed in the story, and hadn’t looked at Stannis for a few paragraphs. He had just made a small noise, however, drawing her attention.

The heat in her cheeks intensified abruptly at what she saw. Stannis was flushed and his pupils were so dilated that his eyes were almost completely black. He had raised the knee of his unbroken leg under the sheets, and his breathing was quick and shallow.

He looked… aroused.

“Do you want me to keep reading?” she asked, her entire face burning. She hadn’t expected him to react like this. Not in a million years. She had thought he would snort and grimace and tell her to stop at once. But apparently the erotic undertones of the story had really hit home. She wondered for a moment what would happen if she read out an actual sex scene, and had to close her eyes and contemplate how disappointed her father would be in her for having such thoughts to make herself stop.

“I - no,” Stannis said, not meeting her eyes. “You can go.”

Sansa slowly put her phone away and bit her lip. “Will you be okay? Do you need anything?”

Stannis’ nostrils flared, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”

Sansa dithered for a moment, but decided that if she were in Stannis’ shoes, she’d probably want a moment in private to compose herself.

Feeling horribly guilty, she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [original quote](http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/411386-i-m-bored-is-a-useless-thing-to-say-i-mean) Sansa paraphrased about boredom:
> 
> “I’m bored’ is a useless thing to say. I mean, you live in a great, big, vast world that you’ve seen none percent of. Even the inside of your own mind is endless; it goes on forever, inwardly, do you understand? The fact that you’re alive is amazing, so you don’t get to say ‘I’m bored.”
> 
> ― Louis C.K.


	6. A Helping Hand

Stannis didn’t know what he had been thinking when he had asked Sansa to go with him to Dragonstone.

Well, yes. He did know. It had all been due to Joffrey. Though it had been grimly satisfying to _finally_ be able to convince Robert that Joffrey needed to be sent away, Stannis still wished Sansa could have been spared. But Sansa’s involvement had - in a way - been essential. In the past Robert had always waved Stannis’ concerns about Joffrey off, and told him that dealing with the children was Cersei’s responsibility. But bringing Ned’s daughter into the equation had changed things. _Of course._

Bringing Sansa to Dragonstone had been the only right thing to do, really. And if anything, Stannis knew he should have brought Sansa to Dragonstone sooner. But Robert had been too much of a coward to tell him about the way Cersei had dragged Sansa out of bed until the morning before Stannis and Sansa were set to leave. Stannis had shouted at Robert until he’d given himself a headache, but that hadn’t changed what Cersei had done. It hurt to think about how he had been drugged and asleep while Sansa had been in trouble, and that _Robert_ had been the one to come to her rescue. But perhaps it had been for the best. Even if Stannis had been healthy enough to act, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to restrain himself to a single backhand if he had found Cersei doing what Robert had described. Violence was not his weapon of choice, but he was a Baratheon as much as Robert was, and though he was much _much_ better at controlling himself, his, too, was the fury.

But it was all over now. He was on Dragonstone. Alone with Sansa. And it was… not good.

Things had been bad enough at Robert’s house. He was lucky Maria was a very discreet housekeeper who had teenage sons and understood about certain things. She hadn’t said anything when he had demanded clean pyjamas and fresh sheets at the break of dawn one morning a few days after Sansa had arrived. It was embarrassing to have wet dreams at his age, but with his hands in casts he couldn’t take the necessary steps to keep it from happening.

He really didn’t know what he would do now that he was mostly going to be alone with Sansa. His own housekeeper, Olga, was only in the house two days a week, and never early in the morning. He’d be forced to ask Sansa for help the next time he made a sticky mess of himself in his sleep. 

And he knew there would be a next time.

As a very young teenager he had resisted the urge to bring himself off, feeling that the activity wasn’t _decent._ He hadn’t cared that everyone in his life - ranging from Robert to his teachers - claimed that it was perfectly natural, and even healthy. He had only relented because of the damn wet dreams. The dreams only came when he refused to find his release during his waking hours, and Stannis had eventually decided that it was vastly preferable to get the illicit business over and done with in the shower - where the evidence could be efficiently washed away - than it was to keep changing his sheets all the time.

Stannis was therefore well aware that the dreams were inevitable now that his hands were in casts. He had plenty of experience with them.

After the first few days on Dragonstone he felt less worried. He had grown used to Sansa for the most part, and rarely became helplessly aroused by her mere presence anymore. It was only really when she shaved him and washed his hair that he could not stop his physical reaction to her. And since Sansa had learnt to leave him his towel to cover his shame, and always give him a few minutes to compose himself before she took him back to bed, it was easy enough to get through all of that without embarrassing himself.

But now he’d made a mistake. Somehow he’d allowed an innocent conversation to get out of hand, and now Sansa was reading some sort of romance novel for him, and he knew that the next time she looked up from her phone she would figure it out. She’d realise that his thoughts were just as lustful as the thoughts of that Jareth character in the story she was reading, and that he would give _anything_ to be able to watch Sansa in the shower.

_Fuck._

She was looking at him, and he knew at once that it didn’t matter that he’d raised his knee to hide his mortifying erection. She could clearly tell that he was being a pervert. Her face was bright red.

“Do you want me to keep reading?”

Yes, and he also wanted her to take all her clothes off. But he shouldn’t want it.

He couldn’t face her, so he looked at her chin rather than her eyes. “I - no. You can go.”

“Will you be okay? Do you need anything?”

His eyes were drawn to her lips when he noticed her bite the lower one. His cock gave a violent twitch, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

_I need to not be in these casts anymore. I need to find out whether you would consider letting me have you, and if you’re willing, I need to fuck you for two days straight, until we’re both chafed and sore and comatose._

“No,” he said.

He didn’t open his eyes until he’d heard the door to her room open and close.

For the second time in less than a fortnight he was driven to the point of trying to masturbate with the tips of his fingers. The sound he let out when it refused to work was not a sob, but it was not the most manly noise he had ever heard himself make, either.

Fury and desperation mingled with frustration and need, and it all just _hurt._

_I can’t take this anymore. I can’t._

He needed more than a physical release. He needed Sansa. He needed her to see how he felt. Respond in kind and tell him whether there was any hope. He knew better than to be unrealistic. He did not expect her to give him more than the promise of a date: a chance to see if there was something more to all this than simple chemical attraction on his part. A chance to get to know her _properly._ In the right context. As a man got to know a woman, not as a patient got to know a nurse.

There was a knock on his door. “Stannis? Do you need your pain medication?”

He started and looked down at himself, feeling mortified and panicked. He couldn’t talk to her while he was like this. “No - I - no. Don’t come in.”

She said something else. He couldn’t focus on the words. He told her again to keep away, but to no avail.

The door opened.

***

Sansa paced around her room, her heart racing.

Had Stannis just been aroused by the story, or was there more to this? Was he… attracted to her?

Her mind was rushing from memory to memory, examining every interaction she had ever had with Stannis over the past two weeks, searching for any indication she could find that Stannis might like her as more than a nurse.

Suddenly the little noises he made when she washed his hair and shaved him sounded completely different in her memory, and his reluctance to part with the towel that covered his torso, and more importantly, his lap, made a brand new sort of sense.

She felt as if her entire body was blushing.

How had she failed to notice? What should she _do?_

She sat down on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath.

The first thing she probably needed to do was decide whether to stay on as his nurse after this, but Sansa really didn’t feel ready to think about that. She wanted to think about her own feelings.

_Do I like him back?_

Her heart leapt at the silent question, and her stomach did a little flip.

It was definitely _flattering._ Stannis was a powerful, grown man. Nothing like the boys she had flirted with or dated in the past. There was something heady about knowing that she had gained his… full attention.

But maybe it wasn’t much of an accomplishment? After all, Stannis was very isolated. She was the only woman aside from Olga and Maria and the other nurses that had come before her that he’d spent any time with lately. Maybe it was just a matter of her being suitably attractive and conveniently present?

An uncomfortable thought suddenly occurred to her.

What if… what if Stannis had scared all the other nurses off because they hadn’t been pretty enough? What if he had been waiting for someone young and attractive so that he could… 

Sansa shook her head, feeling irritated with herself.

So that he could what? Lust after her in peace? Never harass her, sexually or otherwise, and mind his manners for the most part?

No, she didn’t believe Stannis was a dirty old man who just wanted some young pretty thing to give him a sponge bath while he leered. That wasn’t him.

This was probably incredibly difficult for him, she realised with a pang of sympathy. For someone like Stannis Baratheon, becoming attracted to woman in her position was fraught with complications. Become attracted to _anyone_ while bedridden and unable to so much as eat without help was fraught with complications.

A strange noise suddenly carried through her door, and Sansa looked up, startled.

It had sounded like Stannis, but not like any kind of noise she had heard him make before. He sounded desperate. In pain.

She was on her feet at once, thinking about when she had given him his last dose of painkillers and counting the hours since.

In her distress she almost forgot to knock, but she caught herself at the last second.

“Stannis?” She knocked lightly. “Do you need your pain medication?”

“No - I - no. Don’t come in.”

He sounded like he was undergoing _torture._

“You’re in pain, Stannis. I have to give you something for it. Don’t worry, I’m - I’m not going to say anything about… about before. We can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“No, Sansa. Don’t come in.”

Sansa opened the door with a twinge of guilt, walking straight towards the dresser where Stannis’ medication was all lined up. “I’m sorry,” she said, not glancing over at the bed. “But you hired me to take care of you, and I think you really need your medication right now.”

Stannis made a strange choked sound, and she heard him messing with his covers. She focused on the pill bottles, and hoped that he would settle down by the time she had to face him.

When she turned towards him, she saw that he had raised his knee under the covers again, and that his face was a very deep shade of red. He wasn’t meeting her eyes, and he looked both furious and embarrassed.

She took a deep breath and approached him with the pills and a glass of water.

“I don’t need them,” he said through clenched teeth, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“Stannis, I heard you cry out just now,” Sansa said, using her most stubborn tone of voice. She could be just as stubborn as Arya when she set her mind on something, and this was something she was not going to let go. “You’re in pain. Just take the medication.”

“I’m not in pain,” Stannis insisted, his gaze resolutely fixed on the wall to her left.

“What was that noise, then?” Sansa asked, putting the pills and the glass of water down, and crossing her arms.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have said that Stannis _squirmed._

“It’s private,” he said sharply, glaring downwards now.

She followed his gaze to his lap, but due to the way he had positioned his knee, there was really nothing to see. But Sansa could put two and two together.

She dropped her arms to her sides, feeling suddenly awkward. _I should have listened to him. I should have stayed away._ But now that she had barged in on him, she felt like she couldn’t just leave again.

“Was it… was it just the story?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet and careful.

Stannis looked at her then, and Sansa had to suppress the urge to inhale sharply. His eyes were _burning._

“No,” he said, searching her face and tensing.

“Was it… is it… me?” she whispered.

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, and Sansa had to remind herself to keep breathing.

Finally, Stannis gave a curt nod.

Standing was too hard. She sat down on the edge of Stannis’ bed, feeling a little dizzy. Stannis’ eyes widened in response, and she saw him swallow.

“You like me?” she asked in a small voice, her heart pounding away as if she were in the middle of a marathon, and not sitting in a quiet room on a comfortable bed. She remembered the conversation they’d had in Robert’s villa, and how she had told Stannis that she wanted everyone to like her, and how he had said it was impossible to be universally liked. The word ‘like’ hadn’t felt nearly as loaded back then.

Another curt nod. He was more tense than she had ever seen him, and that was saying something.

At some point Stannis must have lowered his knee, because now that she glanced back at his lap, she could see the clear outline of rather an impressive erection.

Sansa knew enough about men to know that erections could get painful if they were left alone for too long, but she doubted Stannis had reached that point. Harry had always said that it took more than an hour for blue balls to develop. That had been before they had started going out, when they had just been friends. They had laughed about it…

Sansa _also_ knew, from health class and from… overhearing things, that masturbating was not something men could really choose not to do. She could vividly remember Theon telling Robb that if he didn’t jerk off at least once a week or so, he’d keep getting wet dreams, and that yes, his mother was bound to figure out what was going on if he kept washing his own sheets. Sansa had _not_ wanted to know about Robb’s wet dreams, so she had stopped listening at that point.

She took a deep breath. What she was about to offer to do would probably ruin the easy, professional relationship she had developed with Stannis, but if she were to be honest with herself, she knew that it was already ruined. She had nothing to lose, and Stannis clearly needed help.

… And she wanted to.

“Stannis?” she asked, looking into his eyes and feeling herself blush despite her best efforts. “Do you need my help with that?”

He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and started to breathe much faster than before.

“I don’t mind,” she continued, feeling her cheeks get even hotter, and a new, different sort of heat start to pool low in her belly. “I - I like you, too.”

The moment she said the words, she knew that they were absolutely true. Somewhere in a corner of her mind - behind a closed door - an attraction had been building, and now the door had crashed open, and a heady wave of arousal was pouring out, pulsing through her, making her blood feel hot and thick and slow. She was forced to take a deep steadying breath.

Stannis’ eyes flew open at her words, and Sansa got the feeling that if he weren’t a very understated sort of person, he’d be gaping at her. He didn’t say anything, however, and Sansa got the distinct feeling that he was struggling with himself.

She decided to be bold.

The sound he made when she placed her hand on his abdomen was a cross between a sharp inhalation and a hiss, and she could feel his muscles bunching up beneath her hand, under the covers.

Still he said nothing. He just looked at her, heat and guilt and desperation in his eyes.

_Am I really going to give him a handjob before even kissing him?_

Sansa decided that she was not that sort of girl, so she took a quick breath and lowered her lips to his. She closed her eyes while she kissed him, so she didn’t know whether he was just too shocked to move his head away, or whether he liked being kissed, but he stayed still and let her do as she wanted.

His lips were as dry as ever, but it felt very different to touch them with her own lips rather than her fingers. She decided to keep the kiss chaste, but it was incredibly tempting to taste him properly. 

_Next time._

She pulled back, letting her eyes flutter open, and saw that Stannis was still staring at her with that intense, conflicted look in his eyes.

“Sansa...” he said, his voice very hoarse.

She could sense that he was about to try to talk her out of this, and she didn’t want him to. So she did the only thing that she felt reasonably sure would convince him to stop talking. She moved the hand that was still resting low on his abdomen downwards.

The heat of him was almost shocking, and she let out a small noise of surprise when his erection twitched beneath her hand.

Sansa saw a glimpse of the whites of Stannis’ eyes before he closed them and _groaned._

His reaction gave her confidence a boost, and she started to rub him through the covers, using slow, firm movements. His hips bucked, and he sucked in a loud breath.

“Is this okay?” she asked, squirming due to her own burgeoning arousal. It was incredibly sexy to see him like this -- almost undone by a bit of _petting._

He nodded a little frantically, his eyes still tightly closed.

“Do you want more?”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Stannis nodded again, more tentatively.

Sansa tried to take slow, deliberate breaths as she wormed her way under the covers, and under the loose waistband of Stannis’ pyjama bottoms. He wasn’t wearing underwear beneath them, and Sansa’s hand immediately encountered a mass of wiry hair. She ignored it, and sought the searing heat of his cock.

Stannis moaned as she wrapped her hand around the thick shaft, marvelling at the weight of him. Harry had always been very proud of his size, and Sansa was sure that Stannis was at least as big, if not bigger. It was difficult to tell without looking, though, and he was hidden by the covers. Vivid memories of what it felt like to have good sex - of being _filled_ \- assaulted her, and she squirmed some more on the bed where she was sitting; she hadn’t felt this wet in a long time.

She started to move her hand, gripping him firmly and focusing on the head by moving his foreskin up and down. He was leaking precome, and her hand was already sticky with it.

Stannis bucked again, and Sansa glanced at his face. He was grimacing, but she recognised it as a grimace of pleasure and need. She sped up, biting her lip. What would his face look like if she actually took him inside? Would it hurt him if she just... straddled him?

_Too soon,_ she scolded herself, feeling vaguely embarrassed.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel hot all over as she continued to move her hand. Even though she’d had memorable, good sex, this was probably the most erotic situation she had ever been in, and the sights, sounds and the smells were making her want to close her thighs around _something_ and do a lot more than squirm.

It didn’t take very long for Stannis to start showing the classic signs of nearly being done, and Sansa sped up, her breathing hitching right along with his, her heart racing.

“ _Fu-uck -_ ” Stannis gasped, his hips bucking more violently than ever, warm, viscous fluid coating her hand.

He went very still after that, aside from his chest moving up and down with each deep breath he took. Sansa watched him, feeling almost hypnotised.

Awkwardness crept up on her as the silence stretched on, and she felt a very different sort of blush stain her cheeks as she withdrew her hand and made her way over to the en suite to wash away the sticky evidence of what she and Stannis had just done.

She hesitated before returning to Stannis’ bedside, wondering what would happen now. Would he want to talk about it? Pretend it hadn’t happened? Ask her to leave?

_I’m not leaving._

Gathering all of her courage, Sansa walked as confidently as she could towards Stannis, giving him a small smile. She felt strangely shy, but she had to ignore it.

“Do you want me to help you clean up?” she offered, knowing that he was probably a bit of a mess, even if most of his… stuff had ended up on her hand.

“We have to talk,” Stannis said, ignoring the question. Guilt and shame filled his eyes. He wasn’t even attempting to hide it.

Sansa nodded. She didn’t want him to feel guilty or ashamed, but she understood that he probably needed to get something off his chest.

“I shouldn’t have put you in the position I just put you in. I will understand if you choose to stop working for me, but I would be… grateful if there was a way we could keep this from leaving the room. I know I have no right to ask, but I do have a reputation to maintain.”

Sansa blinked at him, feeling half incredulous, half amused.

“The position you put me in?” she repeated, shaking her head slightly. “You didn’t exactly force my hand, you know.”

Stannis frowned, but did not seem to be feeling any less guilty.

“I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do,” she said firmly, sitting back down on the bed. “You’re the one who’s at a disadvantage, here. You could probably argue that I assaulted you.”

He blinked very fast and furrowed his brow. “It was not assault,” he eventually said, his tone a little indignant.

“Good,” she said, forcing as much brightness into the word as she could. “Then we agree?”

“Agree?” He looked confused.

“Agree that no one was being forced or assaulted. We are two consenting adults.”

“I… I suppose.”

“Good,” she said again, smiling. “Now, did you want help cleaning up?” Someone needed to be a sensible adult about all this.

His cheeks reddened again, but he nodded.

She went to fetch a washcloth without a word. If she could wrap her mind around the fact that they liked each other, and if she could find the courage to take the first steps in their relationship by kissing him and then _giving him a handjob_ , she could certainly handle cleaning up the mess.

“Is it okay if I look at what I’m doing?” she asked, realising that it would be difficult to clean him up blindly.

Stannis swallowed noticeably, but nodded again. He was still very red.

She was gentle and careful, and made sure to clean the wiry hairs that grew wild all around his now-soft cock while she was doing this. He had never let her wash his private places before, and she was fairly sure that he was unable to clean himself thoroughly on his own, despite being able to use the toilet without help. He wasn’t dirty or anything, but definitely not as clean as he would probably be if he were able to shower.

Stannis seemed to be holding his breath as she worked, and he searched her face near constantly, as if trying to read her mind. After a few minutes she realised he was probably worrying over what she thought of his cock.

_Men._

“It’s very nice,” she said, keeping a perfectly straight face. It was, at that. A very nice size and shape. She wished she could have looked at him while he was still… excited.

Stannis cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

She gave him a pointed look. _You know exactly what I’m talking about._

He fell silent, and though he didn’t exactly look pleased with himself, he stopped looking at her worriedly and relaxed.

When she started to clean his actual cock and then his balls - rather enjoying herself since it had been a while since she’d had the opportunity to touch this entertaining feature of the male anatomy - Stannis tensed up again.

“Is this uncomfortable?” she asked, worried that she’d been too rough.

He shook his head quickly.

Sansa knew she should probably just hurry up and finish, but it was intimate and enjoyable to touch him like this, and she really did think balls were incredibly entertaining to fondle. Surely he wanted to be squeaky clean for once?

It wasn’t until she noticed that his cock was coming back to life that she realised why he had tensed up.

“Oh, I’m taking too long,” she said, withdrawing her hands quickly, but letting her eyes linger. _It really is very nice._ “Sorry.”

Stannis looked very flushed. “It’s fine.”

He was rapidly becoming fully erect again, and Sansa bit her lip, feeling both responsible and very impressed. She really hadn’t thought… at his age…

But Stannis was hardly ancient. Forty, maybe?

“Um,” she said, pushing a lock of hair behind one ear, “should I...?”

“It will go away,” Stannis said, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it. His eyes were very dark.

A fresh wave of arousal moved through her, and the urge climb on top of him and sink down on his - definitely a little bigger than Harry’s - cock made her blush again. She hadn’t realised how much she missed sex until her body started screaming for it. And she was becoming more and more aware of the fact that she _really_ liked Stannis.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind helping you. I mean, I kind of made it happen...”

“Once is enough,” Stannis said, though Sansa was sure the words left him a little reluctantly.

“I could use my mouth this time,” she suggested, making her face as innocent as she could.

His nostrils flared, and the muscles of his jaw flexed.

“That’s not amusing,” he said, glaring at her.

“I’m not joking,” she said, raising a challenging eyebrow. She didn’t know where this bold behaviour was coming from; she wasn’t usually this forward -- at least not this early in a relationship. But it was clear to her that Stannis wouldn’t be the one to push for more, and it was exciting to put him off balance.

More importantly, the idea of going down on him was setting her on fire. She liked the way it felt to please him -- to earn his approval.

Judging from the look on his face, his resolve was already melting.

“I - no,” he said, though his eyes were conflicted.

“You want me to tuck you back in and give you some peace and quiet?” she offered, standing up and starting to fuss with his covers, smiling to herself as she thought about how she was doing it now more as a… girlfriend? ... than a nurse.

“That would - I mean, yes. That would be best,” he ground out, scowling at her as she brought him a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms and started pulling them over the cast on his broken leg.

She made sure she didn’t touch his erection as she finished covering him up, but did let her fingers brush the area near it, suppressing a knowing smile when Stannis inhaled sharply.

She was at the door when he broke down.

“Wait. I…” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Sansa considered teasing him by asking him whether he really thought the offer was still on the table after he’d refused, but his eyes were _begging_ her, so she just gave him the smile she had been trying to suppress.


	7. Going Down

Stannis found himself wondering whether he had fallen asleep while Sansa had been reading that… _story_ … and that everything that had happened after was simply a vivid, wet dream.

It seemed impossible that Sansa might actually be attracted to him, or at least so very amenable to touching him. But it was difficult to convince himself that she disliked it after the way she had dawdled over the job of cleaning him up. She had really seemed to enjoy fondling him, and the sight of her taking obvious pleasure in the act had flooded him with renewed arousal.

It was all real, however, and he couldn’t accept what she had just offered without having a serious conversation with her first.

They needed to decide what they were to each other. They needed to figure out what would happen to their working relationship now that they had crossed such a forbidden boundary. He needed to know whether she had any feelings for him, or whether this was just an erotic interlude with an older man to her: a young girl’s curiosity being satisfied…

As much as he wanted to ask her all his questions, he didn’t trust himself to make any sense now that he was right back where he’d been ten minutes ago: aroused beyond all reason. It was absurd that she had brought him to this point again, absurd that he’d allowed it to happen.

“You want me to tuck you back in and give you some peace and quiet?” Sansa asked, her voice a little coy as she started to pull on the covers that had ended up bunched up by his feet.

It was obvious that she was expecting him to change his mind.

Her lips were incredibly soft. They had felt like heaven when she had kissed him. How much better would they feel wrapped around his cock?

“That would - I mean, yes. That would be best,” he forced himself to say, reminding himself that they couldn’t take one more step without talking things through. It was irresponsible.

She nodded and started getting him dressed again. He wanted nothing to do with the damn pyjamas, but he couldn’t say another word. If he opened his mouth again he’d start ordering her to ignore everything he’d just said and go down on him.

She was very good at following his orders, after all.

As if she had read his mind, her hand brushed up against his groin -- not quite touching his cock, but definitely getting close enough for him to take notice.

How was he this aroused again? She had _just_ made him come. This was neither fair nor reasonable.

He watched in mounting despair as Sansa walked away. She had almost reached the door.

He didn’t want to be forced to try masturbating with the tips of his fingers again. He didn’t want to keep suffering like this. And there really was no intelligent or logical reason for him to keep suffering when the woman he was attracted to was right _there._ Willing.

Stannis swallowed his pride and asked Sansa to wait. The knowing smile she gave him when he told her that he’d changed his mind bruised his ego a bit, but he didn’t care. She was beautiful, and she was coming back.

Still, he needed at least one question answered before he could in good conscience let her do this.

“Would you be willing to accompany me to dinner once I’m recovered?” he asked, trying not to feel too ridiculous. He needed this to be more than an isolated interlude.

“Like a date?” Sansa asked, already pulling his covers down again.

“Yes.”

“That depends,” she said, pulling on the waistband of his pyjamas.

He lifted himself up as best he could to help her as she pulled the pyjama bottoms down. “On what?”

“Would it be the first of many?” She dropped the pyjamas on the floor, settled herself between his legs, and lowered her head towards his groin. But stopped short of touching her lips to his cock. She gave him an expectant look.

He stared at her, thinking it over. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he started to worry that it might undo all the healing progress his ribs had made. She had asked a loaded question. He definitely wanted more than an isolated sexual dalliance with her, but he didn’t know how _much_ more. That was what the date would be for: finding out whether they were compatible, and whether more dates were in order. Promising more than one date at this stage was practically like agreeing to a _relationship._ And a relationship with Sansa would be a… complicated undertaking.

Cold sweat sprang up on the back of his neck. _I’d have to talk to Ned. And deal with Robert._

Apparently he was taking too long to answer; Sansa started to move her head away from him.

“Yes,” he blurted out. _Ned and Robert be damned._ “Fuck!”

As soon as he’d answered her question she had opened her mouth and sucked the head of his cock inside. He wanted to die. Or possibly live forever in this moment. He wasn’t sure.

Deciding whether to close his eyes and focus on the sensations, or keep his eyes open and look at what she was doing to him, was another struggle. At first he couldn’t bring himself to stop looking at her, but when she opened her eyes and looked back up at him, he almost came right then and there. Keeping his eyes closed became a matter of preserving what little remained of his dignity.

Her lips felt even better than he had imagined, and her tongue was something out of a very dirty fantasy. It was clear to him that she had done this before, but he didn’t care how she had learnt to do this; all he cared about was how grateful he was that she was willing to do this for _him._

Though he was certainly not as experienced in these matters as his brothers probably were, he did know the etiquette. It was not polite to push a woman’s head down, or thrust himself up. It was not gentlemanly to demand more than the lady was willing to give, and it was completely out of the question to grab her head and fuck her perfect, hot mouth.

Stannis was forced to remind himself of all these things when Sansa started to take him deeper… but not quite deep _enough._

Surely just a little grabbing would be okay? Just to encourage her?

 _Casts,_ Stannis reminded himself. _Can’t grab anything._

He clenched his teeth and focused on keeping himself still. He’d had plenty of practise doing that for the last few weeks, so it really shouldn’t be that much of a challenge. But it was a challenge. He wanted to buck up so _badly._ She was sucking him steadily, moving her mouth over the tip and stimulating the base with her hand, but he wanted to get further inside. Her mouth was lovely, wet, and warm...

“Please,” he heard himself say when he couldn’t take it anymore. “ _More._ ”

Sansa paused for a long moment, and Stannis’ heart stopped. 

Soon she started moving her mouth again, and his heart attack was narrowly averted.

A pitiful little whine escaped him when she simply continued at the same pace, keeping him trapped in the climb towards his orgasm, but not letting him crest the hill. It was frustrating and pleasurable at once, and he wasn’t sure how much more of it he could stand.

He looked down at her again, deciding that he had lasted long enough and hoping to spark his release by meeting her eyes, but she wasn’t looking up at him. Stannis watched her for a minute, transfixed by the rhythm she had set, fascinated to see the head of his cock disappearing and reappearing between her lips at regular intervals.

“Please,” he repeated, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar.

Sansa opened her eyes. They were darker than Stannis had ever seen them, her pupils hiding most of her bright blue irises. For a moment he felt as if he were drowning.

A strangled, undignified sound left his throat when Sansa suddenly sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing out. His balls tightened up, and the warm, tingly sensation at the base of his spine became searing hot for a moment.

The release was sweet relief and mind-numbing pleasure all wrapped up in one messy package, and Stannis felt months of tension melt from his muscles all at once. His previous orgasm had only been a preview when compared to this one, and all in all Stannis felt as if he were on a much better high than the painkillers had ever given him.

The next few minutes were hazy, but he was vaguely aware of Sansa putting him back to rights and sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Usually I would have wanted to go on the dates first,” Sansa eventually said, breaking the silence. She gave him a shy smile.

“Sensible,” Stannis muttered.

“But I think this is okay,” Sansa continued, biting her lip and searching his face. “I mean, dates are just a way for people to get to know each other, and we’ve been getting to know each other every day since I came to King’s Landing.”

Stannis wasn’t entirely convinced. Context mattered. Getting to know a patient was not the same as getting to know a potential partner. They hadn’t asked each other the sorts of personal questions one would ask after a few dates. She didn’t know his family history or his romantic history, and he didn’t know hers. They had never discussed religion, and though they had touched on politics it had not been a long or a very serious conversation. He didn’t know whether Sansa wanted children, or what she intended to do with her degree in literature, or whether she wanted to travel…

“We don’t know each other that well.”

Sansa looked stung. “What do you mean?” she asked, standing up from the bed.

“Our knowledge of each other is superficial,” Stannis elaborated, feeling increasingly as if he were saying the wrong thing. It was the truth, however, so he kept going. “Which is why I would like to take you to dinner when I have recovered and get to know you more as a person and less as a nurse.”

“You don’t feel like I’m a person?” Sansa’s face had fallen.

“Of course you’re a person,” Stannis said, willing Sansa to be a reasonable. “Don’t be absurd.”

Sansa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she looked determined. “I’m going to go to my room now.”

“All right,” he said slowly.

This time, when Sansa paused in the doorway, it was not because he had asked her to wait.

She gave him a measured look. “For the record, I always thought of you as a person, not a patient.”

Stannis felt a little like his stomach had turned in on itself.

The door closed with a soft click.

***

Sansa was pacing around her room once more, feeling angry and flustered and confused.

She had thought that Stannis had grown to like her. Really like her for who she was. She had thought that his offer to take her to dinner had been a sincere gesture… a sign that he wanted something _more_ with her. A sign that they were on the same page.

He had said that his arousal was because of _her,_ hadn’t he? Not because of the story.

_Maybe he really does just like the way I look?_

She blew out a loud breath and tried to think clearly.

_He wants to take me to dinner. He agreed to go on more than one date, even. He wants to get to know me as a person._

These were all good things, but it was just disappointing Stannis had accepted sexual favours from her even though he didn’t feel like he _already_ knew her as a person. It made her feel… cheap. Objectified.

Sansa paced some more, trying to push aside the dirty feeling that was making her want to wash her hands.

How should she proceed?

It didn’t seem right to start treating him with less care now that this had happened, but she really didn’t think they could go back to how things had been before. Change was inevitable.

After a lot of pacing and a lot of soul-searching, Sansa decided on a tentative plan.

She would acknowledge that their relationship had changed, she would attempt to continue caring for him as she always had, but she would not offer Stannis any more sexual favours. She would not allow herself to be used, and if Stannis needed to take her on a date before he felt ready to view her as a person and not a mere nurse, she would simply wait.

Perhaps it was foolish to give him the benefit of the doubt, and perhaps she should tell him that there would be no date and that she was quitting, but Sansa felt like she knew Stannis. He was not the sort of man who intentionally objectified women. He had never leered at her or acted like a male chauvinistic pig, and he hadn’t hesitated to take her side when she told him what happened with Joffrey. 

She wanted to give him a chance.

***

“Dinner,” Sansa said, her voice as cheerful as ever.

Stannis looked at her, his heart already working overtime. Was she still upset with him? She didn’t look upset… Maybe she had realised that she had misinterpreted his meaning and got upset for no reason?

“How are you?” he asked, wishing he could do something more than just lie in bed and wait for her to feed him dinner. He wanted to go to her… maybe initiate a kiss. He’d been too surprised and too cautious to kiss her back when she had kissed him before, and he regretted it quite a bit.

“I’m good,” Sansa said. “Dinner looks great tonight. Grilled chicken breasts, mashed potato, and steamed broccoli.”

Stannis didn’t care about dinner. He watched in silence as Sansa found the remote for his bed and got him arranged in a seated position so he could eat. Once the tray was in place and Sansa had everything ready, she gave him a little smile.

“How about you? Are you feeling okay?”

He swallowed. He really wasn’t sure. “I’m fine.”

They didn’t say anything for a while after that. Sansa just fed him his dinner and gave him his medicine.

It wasn’t until after she had put everything away that her sunny attitude changed, and a more serious look appeared in her eyes.

“Look,” she said, straightening her back, “I know what happened earlier has changed things. But you made your position clear. You’re obviously not ready to get to know me under our current circumstances, so I think we should just put everything… romantic… on hold until you’ve recovered.”

_Everything?_

“If that’s not acceptable, I think I’m going to have to resign,” Sansa added, her expression sad.

Stannis did not want her to resign.

“It’s acceptable,” he hurried to say.

Sansa still looked a bit sad. “Great,” she said. “Do you want to watch some TV tonight?”

Stannis was still trying to catch up with her, still trying to organise his thoughts. He wanted to explain to her that he had nothing against getting to know her - whatever the circumstances - and that he was sure she had misunderstood him at some point, but it seemed too late. And he wasn’t about to beg like a dog for scraps.

“Yes,” he said. “I heard there’s a new season of Sherlock.”

Sansa smiled in a way that did not make her eyes sparkle. “I’ll put it on for you.”


	8. Talking

The first test of her resolve came the morning after she’d explained to Stannis that they’d have to put any romance on hold until he recovered.

She gave Stannis the same sort of wash as always, but this time she _noticed things._ She saw the way he stopped breathing while she shaved him, the way he swallowed convulsively when she used the tips of her fingers to search for any rough spots, the way he choked back a noise of pleasure when she washed his hair. It was all so familiar, and yet all completely new.

Most importantly, she noticed the way the towel she had draped over him didn’t quite hide the erection her touch elicited.

She hadn’t expected all of his reactions to affect her the way they did. By the end of his wash she was forcing herself to breathe normally, and feeling uncomfortably hot and wet between her thighs. Her body’s overwhelming response to him made it difficult to keep her hands to herself. She wanted to badly to touch him, kiss him, _talk_ to him. It was painful to keep herself at a distance.

But all she had to do to keep herself in check was remind herself of how cheap she had felt the previous day. She didn’t want to feel that way again, so she kept herself under control. At least until she was alone in her room.

Feeling very much like she was doing something she oughtn’t, she stripped and slipped under her bedcovers, fingers already running over fevered skin. She let her imagination run wild, and used the memories of what she had done with Stannis to fuel her fantasies.

At first she just remembered what it had been like to touch him, and the way he had responded. She thought about the way he had pleaded with her when she’d gone down on him, and how sexy he had sounded in all that desperation and _need_. Soon she found herself imagining what it would be like if she were the one unable to move - tied up and helpless - and Stannis had his mouth between her legs, doing things with his tongue that Harry had only ever done very rarely, and making _her_ beg for more.

Sansa squirmed and let her fingers slip over her slick folds, rubbing gently but keeping to the surface.

And then… once he had made her come with his mouth… he would fuck her.

Biting her lip, she slipped a finger inside and imagined it was something much bigger and blunter.

Would he talk to her? Tell her how good she felt? How he was going to fill her again and again until she screamed herself hoarse?

She moved her hand faster.

Or would he try to keep silent? Try, but fail to keep his grunts of pleasure to himself the closer he got to his release?

_So close…_

Maybe he would moan her name? Or whisper it in that hoarse, graveled way of his?

A muffled cry escaped her as she peaked, and she wished her hand wasn’t tired. She could so easily keep going. She wanted so much _more._ But she knew she’d just end up feeling sore, sticky, and too sweaty if she didn’t let up.

It took her a few minutes to calm her breathing, but eventually she felt a sense of peace.

The peace did not last very long, however. After a minute of hazy bliss, she realised that she had… done what she had just done… in the room right next to Stannis’. Her blood rushed to her face.

_What if he heard me?_

She tried to remember how loud her cry had been, but it had been muffled by her pillow, so she wasn’t quite sure. Hopefully it had been too muffled to carry through the door.

***

Stannis was miserable.

Sansa had been as gentle as always when she had helped him wash and shave, and he’d been as turned on as ever, but even though it only made sense for them to be able to touch and kiss after what had happened between them - they had both admitted that they liked each other, after all - Sansa hadn’t even given him a peck on the cheek.

He didn’t understand why they had to put everything ‘romantic’ on hold. Of course he couldn’t take her on a proper date until he was able to hold his own knife and fork, but they could still _talk._ She could still touch him.

He was back in bed, Sansa had left the room a few minutes ago, and the erection he had been hiding under his towel when he’d been in the bathroom was gone, too. But Stannis knew that if he kept thinking about Sansa touching him it would be right back. (Because apparently his body was under the impression that he was a hormonal teenager.)

Stannis honestly didn’t know where his self control had gone. Had it broken in the accident along with half his bones?

Was it very wrong of him to have hoped that this time when she washed him she would wash him again like she had after that handjob? Just thinking about her hands caressing his sack made him want to moan. And did it make him a terrible person if he couldn’t stop remembering the way her tongue had felt on the head of his cock? Licking and sucking in that exquisite way…

Stannis shifted with a grimace. All these erections were getting tiresome and ridiculous.

He wondered for a moment whether there wasn’t a pill he could take to prevent this. Surely if there was a pill to induce the condition there was a pill to stop it from occurring?

As he mulled this over, the quiet of his room was suddenly disturbed by a muffled sound next door. It sounded like Sansa, and it sounded… erotic. But that was just him hearing what he wanted to hear, wasn’t it? It was highly unlikely that she was even now, as he listened, touching herself. 

Despite his valiant effort at reasonable thoughts, licentious mental images flooded his brain until his mouth became completely dry.

Sansa spread open, her hand pressed tightly against her cunt, thighs quivering, breasts heaving…

_Oh, gods. Maybe she has a toy?_

The stiffness of his cock was becoming obscene, and the pressure he felt, the _need_ was all-consuming.

He had called her name before he could think to stop himself.

“Yes?” her voice was loud and clear, though the door was still closed.

Cursing himself, he tried to come up with something to say.

“What’s for lunch?” 

“I’m not sure,” Sansa said, still speaking to him through the door. She sounded a little irritated. “Do you want me to go downstairs and find out?”

_No, I want you to come in here and touch my cock._

“No, no,” he said, wishing that someone would just put him out of his misery. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

The door opened, and Sansa walked in. Was it his imagination, or did the dress she was wearing look as if she had just put it on in a hurry? His cock twitched at the idea, reminding him to raise his knee to hide the way it was tenting his covers.

“Why did you ask in the first place if it doesn’t matter?” she asked, sounding exasperated. Her skin looked a little flushed, and she was crossing her arms under her breasts, increasing the amount of cleavage on display.

He swallowed. “Er,” he began, unable to come up with anything.

“Yes?”

“I heard you make a noise,” he said, feeling flustered and wanting to turn the tables on her.

Sansa blushed a violent shade of pink.

“I stubbed my toe,” she said, though it was clear as day that she was lying.

The vision of her touching herself wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Really?” he asked, staring her down.

Sansa dropped her hands and then crossed them again. “It’s none of your business.” She was still bright pink.

There was a tense silence, while they stared at each other.

Stannis was almost _sure_ she had been doing something… sexual, and he couldn’t stand the fact that he was supposed to leave the matter be; put the romance on hold until he was recovered. He didn’t want to.

“I know you’re a person,” he blurted out, throwing caution to the winds. “I want to keep getting to know you better.”

“Do you want to keep getting to know me better, or do you just want me to help you with what you’re trying to hide?” Sansa asked, frowning at him.

Feeling his face heat up, Stannis clenched his jaw for a moment. _Impertinent girl._

“I want to get to know you better,” he repeated through gritted teeth.

Sansa’s stance became slightly less defensive, and her expression softened, though her eyes were still wary. “How do I know you’re not just saying that? How do I know you’ll really listen to me?”

He had no answer for her. “I - I don’t know how to convince you,” he admitted, looking at her and frowning.

“Well,” Sansa said, biting her lip, “it might be good if you started by telling _me_ something about _you_. Something you wouldn’t share with just anyone.”

He blinked at her. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa said, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Something that makes you feel vulnerable. Something important.”

Stannis swallowed. Sansa was asking for a lot. He wasn’t sure he was ready to confide in her -- to trust her with something like what she was talking about. At least his arousal was going away. That made it a little easier to think.

_Something that makes me feel vulnerable. Something important._

Would it scare her away if he told her? Would she start looking at him in that pitying way everyone had looked at him and Robert after the accident?

Sansa’s gaze was fixed on him, and the tension in the air was making it hard to breathe.

Was the chance of a relationship with her worth the pain of exposing an open wound?

He stared at her, thinking about the past weeks, thinking about how different he had felt ever since Sansa walked into his life. It was unlike anything that had ever happened to him before.

He took a deep breath. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained._

“I watched my parents die when I was fourteen.”

Sansa’s blue eyes widened, and she went a little pale.

He pressed on. “It was a car crash. It happened in Storm’s End, just outside the manor where I grew up. Robert and I saw it all happen from a window. It happened so close to home that they were practically in the driveway.” He took another deep breath. The memories always hurt. “There was a storm that night, and the conditions were atrocious. Still, my father was used to driving through storms. He would probably have managed to drive Mother safely home if it hadn’t been for the tree.” He fell silent.

“Tree?” Sansa asked, her voice gentle. Her eyes were no longer wide with shock, but she was still pale.

“The wind uprooted a tall redwood tree just as Father was driving by it. It hit the windshield. My parents died immediately upon impact.”

Sansa came closer, moving slowly and carefully, and touched his shoulder. She was looking at him with sympathy and understanding, but no matter how hard he looked, he could not see any pity. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that.” Her breath hitched in her throat. “I’m - I’m sorry it happened at all.”

“No use being sorry about it,” Stannis muttered. “It happened.”

“Still, it must have been so hard,” Sansa said, her thumb circling his shoulder. “You were so young.”

He swallowed, unsure what to say. A part of him wanted to tell her that he didn’t need her sympathy, but even the thought of saying that tasted a lie.

A long silence fell.

“Thank you for telling me,” Sansa eventually whispered. “Do you want to talk about it some more? Or would you like some time alone?”

“No. I want to get to know you,” he said, giving her a stubborn look. That was the whole point of this conversation, wasn’t it?

“I believe you,” Sansa said, squeezing his shoulder briefly and then taking a step back. She sat on the edge of his bed. “What do you want to know?”

All the sensible questions he had wanted to ask her seemed to have fled his mind, but after a moment’s consideration he thought of something.

“Er - do you get along well with your family?”

“Yes,” Sansa said, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I’ve told you that my sister can be a menace, and it sometimes gets a bit crazy to live in a house with so many siblings, but I love them all. I love my parents, too. I wish I knew my Dad better, though. He always works so much; I feel like we hardly ever talk. I have a closer relationship with my Mum.” Sansa paused and looked down at her lap. “Right now I’m just feeling pretty grateful that they’re alive.”

“You should be.” Stannis said.

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence. Sansa was looking at him, an uncertain, nervous expression on her face. “Um,” she then started, pushing a lock of hair behind an ear, “how about you? I know you don’t really get along too well with your brothers, but do you have any extended family?”

Stannis sighed. “I have an uncle, Lomas Estermont, who looked after Robert, Renly, and me after the accident. I usually see him and his family over Christmas.”

“But you’re not very close?”

“Not particularly.”

There was another silence. Stannis tried to think of something else to ask since Sansa was giving him an expectant look. but it was a bit difficult to think when she was looking at him so intently. He drew a blank: an empty, horrifying blank.

Panicking a little, Stannis asked the first question that popped into his head. “How many boyfriends have you had?” He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I mean, you told me once that you had dated quite a bit…” _Pathetic._

Sansa didn’t look upset by the question, however. She looked a little embarrassed and started to fiddle with the folds of her skirt, but she answered him. “Four. Well, five if you count Jon. I forced him to play the groom when I used to stage my wedding when I was eight.” Sansa grinned, but the smile faded quickly. “I’ve only had one serious boyfriend. I met him in my freshman year in the Vale. We were friends for a while, and then we dated, and then we were together for a few months.” She looked up. “How about you? Any girlfriends?”

“Nothing serious. Though I was engaged at one point,” he said, even though he didn’t really want to talk about Selyse. He never wanted to talk about Selyse. Much less think about her.

Sansa tilted her head to the side, open curiosity in her gaze. “But you didn’t get married? What happened?”

“I only became involved with the woman because Robert was setting up a very important business deal with her father, and strongly urged me to keep her happy.”

Sansa’s face fell. There was shock and disappointment in her eyes, and it made Stannis’ heart constrict. Shame welled up in him, and he tried to think of something to say to make it all sound more… decent. At the time it hadn’t felt like such a sordid thing to do. It had been common practise, and Robert’s marriage to Cersei had happened in much the same way.

“I couldn’t go through with it,” he muttered, looking away from Sansa’s disappointed gaze. “We weren’t compatible, and I… I felt nothing for her. It didn’t seem right to marry a woman I didn’t… care for.” Not after watching the train wreck that was his brother’s marriage. Not for a business deal that barely made a difference to the company, and would mostly have served to keep the Tyrells from being able to make a lucrative set of deals in their own corner of the market. Now Stannis, unlike his younger brother, had no love for the Tyrells, but honestly… he’d rather crush them without resorting to cheap tricks.

Sansa was nodding. He could see the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“I think you made the right decision,” she said, her voice soft and encouraging.

He dared to look back at her, feeling a surge of relief to see that her eyes no longer held any censure.

“It’s in the past,” he said, wanting to close the subject.

“If that was your most serious relationship,” Sansa said, her words hesitant, “and you didn’t _care_ for her… does that mean you’ve never cared about a woman?”

He tensed and looked away from her again. He could hear the question she was really asking. _Why haven’t you ever been able to find love? What’s wrong with you?_

“Never for long enough for it to come to anything,” he said, trying to imply that he’d at least had fleeting passions. Somehow that felt less pathetic.

Sansa hummed, sounding deep in thought.

There was a long stretch of silence.

“Do you think it will be any different with me?” she asked at length, her voice quiet and vulnerable.

He met her eyes, finding it hard to breathe, suddenly.

“I don’t know,” he said, furrowing his brow.

Sansa closed her eyes tightly.

“I do know that I’ve never felt this way about another woman,” he hurriedly added, trying to ignore how clichéd his words were.

Sansa breathed in sharply -- it almost sounded like a hiccough. She opened her eyes, and Stannis saw that they were glassy with unshed tears. There was hope in her eyes, but also doubt.

“I mean it,” he said, willing her not to cry. He had never intended to bring her to tears. Never. He didn’t know how they had ended up having this conversation. He felt like they had gone unusually quickly from experimenting with sexual acts yesterday to discussions that were best left for… later.

 _She’s young,_ he reminded himself. _Nothing happens slowly when you’re young._

“Really?” She was searching his face intently, and Stannis did his best to appear truthful.

Because it was true. He had never felt such a strong attraction to any woman so _quickly._ It was horribly inconvenient that he’d met her under circumstances where it was so decidedly awkward for his body to be ablaze with desire all the time, but he wouldn’t change a thing. He’d suffer all the discomfort and indignity in the world if it meant he could continue to feel what he felt whenever she smiled at him.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he said, when it seemed that she was waiting for him to speak.

Sansa searched his face for a little longer, but finally she bit her lip and nodded.

He sagged with relief.

The atmosphere was charged as they looked at each other, and Stannis wondered what would happen next.

“So, um,” Sansa said, playing with her hair and giving him a little smile. There was still a hint of vulnerability about her, but she seemed to be trying to move past it. “Do you want to ask me anything else?”

He remembered a better question this time. “What do you want to do with your life after you finish school?”

Her smile widened, and her eyes sparkled. “You want to know my dreams for the future?”

It was rather a sappy way of phrasing it, but yes. He supposed that was accurate enough. He nodded to confirm.

She kissed him.

It was a kiss that lasted for much too short a time, and again he was too stunned to respond to it. Her lips were just as soft as he remembered.

“When I was little I wanted to be a princess,” she said, a giddy sort of energy pouring from her, the hints of vulnerability fading into nothingness. “I read every book of fairytales I could get my hands on. I learnt romantic poems about knights and their ladies by heart…”

She went on to explain that as she had grown older, her desire to become a princess had faded away, but her love for the romantic literature had never left her. She was studying literature at school so that she might eventually find a job in the world of publishing. She wanted to help discover promising new authors and bring them to the public’s attention.

Stannis suspected that she would be more likely to end up teaching high school literature classes than she was to find a job in the cutthroat world of publishing, but then… she was well connected. It was quite possible that she’d be able to find work in her chosen field.

She already knew what he did for a living, so he was surprised when she turned the question back on him.

“I - I suppose I just want to keep the family company going,” he said. It was a long time since he’d given any thought to doing more with his career than that.

“Really? There’s nothing you’d rather do?”

“Well,” he stalled, clearing his throat, “I suppose it would be satisfying to revive the Storm’s End branch of the business. When my father died the company took a bad hit. During the recession it shrank further.” Sansa nodded and looked like she might start asking more questions. That wouldn’t do. This was supposed to be a conversation about her. “But you said you want to read books for a living,” he said, bringing the conversation back on track. “Anything else?”

She poked his chest lightly, mindful of his injuries. His ribs had mostly healed, however, so there really was nothing for her to worry about in that general area. Aside from his collar bone, of course.

“You know it’s more complicated than that,” she said with a mock glare, “and yes, I don’t want my entire life to revolve around work.”

He kept looking at her, hoping that she would go on.

“I want to get married some day,” she said, blushing faintly. “And I’d like to be a mother.”

She’d be an amazing mother. It was much too easy to picture her with a baby in her arms. A baby with dark hair…

“The serious boyfriend you had,” Stannis asked, trying to bring himself back from fantasy land, “he didn’t want to propose?”

“He cheated on me.” The happiness that had been filling Sansa’s voice was suddenly gone.

_Idiot boy._

“I see,” he said, wishing he hadn’t asked.

“Don’t worry, I’m over it,” Sansa said. “We didn’t really part ways on bad terms, all things considered. Like I said, we were friends before we started dating, and I really should have known he would cheat on me. Harry’s just not very good at resisting temptation.” She smiled halfheartedly.

“Don’t make excuses for him,” Stannis said sharply. “Any man worth his salt can keep it in his pants if he really wants to.”

Sansa looked very amused at that, and Stannis immediately realised why. He’d been unable to resist the temptation of a blowjob, even though he’d already had an orgasm minutes before the offer was made.

“I was unattached,” he muttered, feeling himself redden. “It’s not the same.”

“Are you still?” Sansa asked, tilting her head to the side, no longer amused.

“Still what?”

“Unattached?”

Stannis blinked at her. He got the sense that this was important.

“I… I suppose... I suppose not.”

Sansa’s expression, serious just a moment ago, became _elated._

“So we’re dating, then?” she said, smiling so widely that Stannis wasn’t sure how her facial muscles weren’t cramping from the strain.

“We haven’t been on a date yet,” he hedged, “but yes. I think that’s probably the most appropriate term, even if it’s not _technically_ accurate.”

She was looking at him with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

This time, when she kissed him, he was ready.

As soon as her lips touched his, he seized the chance he had let slip through his fingers _twice_ and thrust his tongue into her mouth, determined to taste her. Sansa made a small noise of surprise, but she didn’t move away. She parted her lips willingly and brought her own tongue forward to slide against his. It was all very slippery and a bit sloppier than was entirely dignified at his age. But he hadn’t wasted his teen years making out behind woodshop sheds or underneath bleachers; Stannis was sure he could be excused for making up for it now. 

He was only really getting into the swing of things when Sansa pulled back and stood up from the bed, taking rapid shallow breaths.

“Oh, um… wow,” she said, her face flushed.

Stannis rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, savouring the taste that lingered on it. _Delicious._

“Come back here,” he said, hoping that she would just do as he told her. He wanted to continue to explore her lips, her tongue and her mouth for a much longer time. He wanted her lips to be red and swollen by the time he finished. He wanted her skin to be rubbed raw due to the rougher texture of his skin. It would take longer than it usually might as he was freshly shaved, but her skin was so soft… so delicate and fragile…

“No, I - I need to go get your lunch,” Sansa said, still a little breathless by the sound of things.

Stannis scowled. He didn’t want lunch. He wanted to kiss her.

“Really, I can’t let you starve.” She smiled, and Stannis saw an impish gleam in her eyes. She was teasing him on purpose.

He narrowed his eyes. “Come back here, _now._ ”

Her lips parted, and her breath hitched, and for a moment Stannis was sure she would obey, but then she shook her head slightly and took a step back.

“Maybe after you’ve eaten,” she said, her voice still teasing.

The breath he took was supposed to calm him down, but when he exhaled a small growl escaped him. He did not like being _teased._

“You are wound very tight,” Sansa said, shaking her head at him. “But just because you’re injured, I’m not going to be at your beck and call.”

Stannis scowled more deeply. Who was going to be at his beck and call if not her? He really couldn’t do without her help.

“I mean, I’ll see to your every _legitimate_ need,” Sansa added, “but you can’t just order me to kiss you whenever you want. That’s barbaric.”

It didn’t really sound barbaric to him. Didn’t she like kissing him?

As if she had read his mind, she laughed. “Don’t look at me like that! I really like kissing you. But I’m not your sex slave.”

He felt a hot pulse of arousal, but he managed to keep from making a sound.

“You’re exaggerating,” he muttered. “It’s a leap to go from asking for kisses to _slavery._ ”

“I know,” Sansa said, the laughter fading from her voice. She bit her lip and furrowed her brow, obviously searching for the right words. “But I… I didn’t like the way it felt before. We did things… and you told me right afterwards that you still thought of me as your nurse. It - it made me feel used.”

_Oh._

“I - I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Stannis said, feeling as if his stomach had suddenly been replaced with a rock dredged up from the icy depths of the ocean.

Sansa looked very relieved at that, but she didn’t lean over to kiss him. “I didn’t think you meant it that way,” she said again, giving him a little smile. “But I would still prefer it if you didn’t order me to do anything… physical... while I’m still taking care of you.”

He nodded at once. “Understood.”

“Asking nicely is okay, of course,” Sansa said, moving closer, an impish gleam back in her eyes. Her lips brushed the outer shell of his ear, making him shudder. 

“And you can do whatever you like once you’re back to full health…”

He swallowed and felt another, more powerful pulse of arousal move through him.

Sansa kissed him, but it was a chaste kiss, and she pulled back much too quickly.

“I’ll go get your lunch now.”

He cleared his throat and nodded.

She left the room, and Stannis closed his eyes. He had never hated his casts and his injuries more than he did in this precise moment.


	9. We've Got a Thing Going On

“Me and Mrs. - Mrs. Jones…” Sansa sang, following along with the lyrics without thinking about it. She had her earbuds in, and she was busy putting some clean laundry away in her room.

“Sansa?”

Sansa pulled her earbuds out of her ears and looked at the door that connected her room to Stannis’. “Yeah?”

“Could you come in here?”

Sansa threw a pair of socks in her sock drawer, put her iPod away and went into Stannis’ room.

“Were you singing?” Stannis immediately asked, an odd expression on his face.

Sansa felt herself blush. “Yes, sorry, was I being too loud?”

“No. But it was an awful song,” Stannis said, frowning.

Sansa suppressed a laugh. Stannis never really tried to hide his opinions. “Why don’t you like it? Is it because it’s about a man who’s having an affair with a married woman?” She asked, sitting on the edge of his bed and tilting her head to the side.

Stannis blinked at her. “Is that what it’s about?”

“Well, yeah.” It was getting increasingly difficult to keep her laughter at bay. “Why don’t you like it if it’s not because of that?”

Stannis scowled. “It should be ‘Mrs. Jones and I’, not ‘Me and Mrs. Jones’.”

Sansa couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. She burst into laughter. “Really?”

“Yes,” Stannis said grumpily. “He’s saying that they have a ‘thing’ going on, isn’t he? The correct way to say the sentence is: ‘Mrs. Jones and I have a thing going on’. It’s obvious when you take Mrs. Jones out of the equation. No one would ever say: ‘me have a thing going on’, would they? It sounds absurd.”

“It’s just a song, Stannis,” Sansa said, shaking her head and smiling.

“It’s the decline of the English language,” Stannis muttered.

If Stannis were anyone but _Stannis,_ Sansa might have considered arguing that English was a bully of a language that liked to beat other languages up for spare grammar and loose vocabulary, and that it was constantly changing and evolving. Singers ignoring grammar to make lyrics sound better was nothing to be worried about. Since Sansa was fairly sure that Stannis already knew this, and simply didn’t approve of any of it, she decided to kiss him instead.

Once they broke apart, Stannis’ eyes had darkened. “You have a good singing voice,” he said, hoarse and a little out of breath.

With a smile, she kissed him again for that.

***

Sansa smiled as she pushed Stannis’ wheelchair down a very long hospital corridor. The past week had been incredibly enjoyable. Stannis had been coming out of his shell more and more each day, eager to converse with her on all sorts of topics, both personal and not. Sansa hadn’t pushed him to say more about his parents, but sometimes when she talked about Mother, Father, Robb, Arya, and everyone, Stannis offered a piece of his own history in return. At first he had always gone a bit quiet and sad afterwards, but for the last three days or so, he seemed to be able to shake these dark moods off more quickly. Sansa was glad to see it. When Stannis had first told her about his parents’ death she had got the sense that the memory of the event pained him terribly, but the more he mentioned them, the less hurt he seemed to be.

His quick progress made her wonder whether anyone had ever given him a chance to talk about them before.

 _He has me, now,_ she reminded herself. She’d help him in any way she could.

So far, he seemed to feel that kissing definitely helped at least as much as talking. And… there had been quite a bit of kissing. She blushed at the memory of their latest session. They had actually managed to steam up the windows of his room. He hadn’t asked her for anything more than kisses, but sometimes she had been unable to resist stroking him like she had that first time. She liked the way he sounded when she touched him, and the rush of bringing him pleasure was still so heady and exciting.

Looking around to check if anyone had noticed her blushing, Sansa tried to compose herself. She’d have to appear professional in front of Stannis’ doctor. If they ever reached the man’s office; this hospital was enormous.

“Nearly there?” Sansa asked, feeling absurdly like a child on a long drive.

“Just around the next corner,” Stannis said patiently. There was not even a trace of irritation in his voice.

He had changed quite a bit since they started dating. Mostly he seemed less… tense. Less prone to grinding his teeth, though it still happened if something irritated him enough. (A phone call from Robert was enough to do the trick, and sometimes grammatically incorrect song lyrics made him grumpy.)

The doctor examined Stannis in private, and Sansa looked through some old magazines while she waited. After she’d caught up on gossip that was completely out of date, the doctor asked her to step inside the examination room.

He introduced himself as Doctor Pylos, and they shook hands. He had a nice firm grip and a serious countenance.

“Stannis tells me you’ve been helping him for the past few weeks,” Dr. Pylos said, gesturing at a vacant seat.

Sansa sat down and nodded. “Yes. Is everything all right?” She glanced at Stannis, feeling a little confused about why she had been called in. Stannis didn’t look worried, however, so it was probably nothing serious.

“Perfectly fine,” Dr. Pylos said. “He’s healing more quickly than I originally anticipated. You’ve clearly been taking good care of him.”

Dr. Pylos went on to explain that he was changing some of Stannis’ medication and reducing the strength and the amount of pain killers Stannis was allowed to ingest. Sansa took careful notes on her phone.

“Other than that,” Dr. Pylos said in the end, “I’d just recommend continuing as you have, and then I’m sure Stannis will be free of the casts, and starting his physical therapy by the end of the month.”

Stannis nearly looked pleased at this, though he didn’t smile.

Sansa beamed, however, and thanked Dr. Pylos profusely.

After a quick stop in the hospital pharmacy to pick up Stannis’ new prescriptions, they headed back to the car.

As soon as they were out of the hospital, Sansa made sure Stannis was comfortable, and adjusted the blanket that she had draped over his lower half to keep him warm. It wasn’t exactly cold outside, but Stannis was wearing thin, loose clothing that could easily be pulled over his casts, and Sansa didn’t want him to feel exposed.

Stannis didn’t complain about her fussing; he knew to expect a kiss for his forbearance.

… Possibly Sansa only fussed with his blanket to have an excuse to touch him and then kiss him.

He was a bit scratchy today, since she hadn’t shaved him since the day before, but she liked the way his skin was so different from hers, and she liked the way he always tried to deepen the kiss as soon as he could. It never failed to send a rush of heat through her.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. They were outside a busy hospital. There weren’t any people around at the moment, but this still wasn’t exactly a private place to make out.

Sansa grinned at Stannis when she noticed that he had some of her lip gloss on his mouth, and wiped it off for him.

“Must you wear that stuff?” he asked, acting disgruntled, though Sansa knew he wasn’t.

She was pushing him towards the car now, and let herself roll her eyes since he wouldn’t be able to see. “You like it.” She had not failed to notice the way Stannis’ eyes always lingered a little longer on her lips when she wore glosses or lipsticks. Especially red hues.

Sansa paused when she saw that there was a gentleman loitering by the wheelchair accessible vehicle that was their ride back to the harbour. It wasn’t their driver, since she could see the chauffeur sitting in the driver’s seat, looking at his phone with a bored expression.

“Who is that?” she asked, not pushing Stannis’ wheelchair any closer.

“Davos,” Stannis said, looking far closer to being pleased than he had in Dr. Pylos’ office. There was even a hint of a smile.

“Stannis!” Davos said jovially, walking towards them both. “How are you doing?”

“I’m getting better,” Stannis said. “Pylos said I’d probably be out of the casts and doing physical therapy by the end of the month.”

“Really?” Davos smiled. “That’s great.”

“Never mind that. How are things at the office?”

“Didn’t your doctor order you to keep away from sources of stress?” Davos asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Stannis sighed. “Just… keep it vague.”

Sansa was starting to a feel a bit ignored, but didn’t say anything.

“Everything is just fine at the office, Stannis,” Davos said placatingly, shaking his head a bit. “Now, why don’t you introduce me to your lovely friend, here?” Davos raised his eyebrow in a way that made Sansa blush. _He saw us kissing. He must have._

Stannis cleared his throat. “Davos, this is Sansa Stark, Eddard Stark’s daughter. Sansa, this is my second in command, Davos Seaworth.”

Davos shook her hand. He did it with a lot more warmth than Pylos had, though his grip was just as pleasantly firm.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Sansa said, recalling the different stories she had pulled out of Stannis about this man. They had been friends for a long time from what she had managed piece together.

“Likewise,” Davos said.

“Sansa has been assisting me,” Stannis added, sounding a little awkward.

“Oh?” Davos looked amused.

Sansa’s heart was beating too fast. Wasn’t Stannis going to tell his friend about them? Was he ashamed of her?

“We’re.... we’re dating,” Stannis finished, to Sansa’s immense relief. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.

Davos raised his eyebrows for a moment, but didn’t really seem fazed. Sansa got the feeling that he was not the sort of man who got fazed very easily.

“Marya will want to meet you,” he said to her, “Stannis hasn’t dated a woman since Selyse. She won’t believe me unless she sees you for herself.”

Selyse… wasn’t that the woman Stannis had been engaged to? She was almost sure the woman had been called Selena Florent or something like that. Stannis had only said the name once in passing since their conversation about her. 

“Oh, um.” Sansa pushed a lock of hair behind one ear and tried to remember everything Stannis had ever said about Davos. “Is Marya your wife?”

Davos laughed. “Yes, she is.”

“We can arrange dinner parties later,” Stannis said, sounding impatient. “Sansa and I have a ferry to catch.”

Davos nodded and offered to help the driver get Stannis into the car. As they worked, Sansa heard Davos ask a question that made Stannis scowl.

“Does your brother know about this?”

“About what?”

“About you dating Ned Stark’s daughter.”

“No. And you’re not going to tell him. It’s none of his business.”

“I know it isn’t,” Davos said, his voice calm and measured. “But you know him. He’s probably going to kick up a fuss, and that will mean chaos at the office.”

“I’ll talk to him when the time is right.” Stannis’ voice was sharp, and his words were followed by an uncomfortable silence.

“I understand,” Davos said after a moment, securing Stannis in the back of the car. “But you might want to reconsider kissing in public if you want to keep this a secret.”

Stannis had no answer for that, and Sansa felt herself blush again.

Saying goodbye to Davos was awkward after that, and once the chauffeur started the car she didn’t say anything to Stannis, noticing that his mood was rather dark.

It wasn’t until they were on the ferry, sitting side by side up on deck, listening to the sounds of seagulls screeching and the engine of the boat humming, that the dark cloud above Stannis’ head seemed to dissipate.

“I will tell Robert about us,” he said, meeting her eyes steadily. “But I want to be able to stand on my own two feet when I do it, and I want to make sure he doesn’t create any chaos at work.”

“I don’t understand.” Sansa shook her head and furrowed her brow. “Why would he create chaos?”

“Because he’s _Robert_ ,” Stannis said with a sigh. “Trust me.”

“It really is none of his business, though,” Sansa said, frowning down at her lap.

“You don’t know what he’s like about your father,” Stannis said, and Sansa could hear the scowl in his voice.

Sansa recalled the callous way Robert had hit Cersei and shuddered. There was a lot she didn’t know about Robert.

“I trust you,” she said, deciding not to let any of this get to her. Stannis had told Davos about her. He wasn’t ashamed.

She changed the subject.

“So, how would you like to celebrate?” she said, forcing some brightness into her voice.

Stannis’ shoulders relaxed noticeably. He was obviously glad of the new topic. “Celebrate?”

“The good news! The doctor said you’d be out of the casts by the end of the month, remember?”

“That’s hardly something to celebrate now,” Stannis said, sounding sceptical. “Perhaps once I’m actually out of the damn things…”

They exchanged a heated look.

Sansa licked her lips. “Well, I still think we should celebrate. Ivar might be willing to make some really nice for dinner, and we could stop by the bakery on Dragonstone and get those little cakes, and -”

Stannis - a little more mobile when sitting up - had leant in to kiss her, cutting her off mid-sentence. It was a kiss that hinted at very good things to come.

She couldn’t help the embarrassed giggle that escaped her when they parted. “We’re in public,” she whispered, glancing around and noticing a few fellow passengers arching their brows at her. She wondered for a moment what they must look like to an outsider. Stannis looked older than his years in a wheelchair, and due to the blanket and the coat she had thrown over him to keep him warm, it was impossible to see the casts. An outsider wouldn’t know he was in the chair due to injuries. She, on the other hand, still got carded every time she tried to buy a bottle of Limoncello at the liquor store. She was twenty-one, but she could easily pass for seventeen if she dressed a certain way.

“Do they look like the sort of people Robert might talk to?” Stannis said, looking unconcerned. If he noticed the judgmental looks their fellow passengers were shooting them, he didn’t care.

“You never know.” Sansa shrugged.

Stannis didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t try to kiss her again for the rest of the journey.

***

“You’re getting to be very good at this,” Stannis murmured as Sansa rinsed off the razor.

“Yeah?” She smiled at him. “Ready to teach me how to use the straight razor, then?”

He froze.

“You should see the look on your face,” Sansa said, shaking her head and still smiling. “Don’t worry, I think I’ll leave straight razors to the experts. I’d probably cut my own fingers off.”

“I could teach you,” he offered, adjusting to the idea. “Once I have the use of my hands I could show you how it’s done.”

“Once you have the use of your hands, you won’t need me to help you shave,” Sansa pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

He remained silent. She was shaving the rest of his right cheek, and he didn’t want to risk speaking and getting nicked.

“I could still teach you,” he said, meeting her eyes as she put the razor away.

“I might take you up on that,” Sansa said, her voice quiet and warm.

He closed his eyes as Sansa performed the usual ritual of checking his jaw and neck for any rough spots she might have missed, and couldn’t quite keep a noise of pleasure from escaping. She was always so gentle, and her hands were so soft.

Today she kissed him once she had satisfied herself that she had shaved him properly, and Stannis took the opportunity to return the kiss as enthusiastically as he could. He nibbled on her bottom lip and swiped at her tongue with his, doing his best to keep her locked in place. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to kiss her until they were both so breathless that they’d be forced to gasp for air. He wanted to be out of these damn casts so he could carry her to bed and kiss every part of her body and _take_ her.

“Stannis!” Sansa pulled away, but she was not nearly as breathless as he wanted her to be.

“Yes?” he said in return, examining her face closely. She was flushed, and seemed more pleased than scandalised.

He kept looking at her, meeting her eyes steadily and wishing he had the words to tell her how much he wanted her -- the words that would tell her what he would do with her if he only could.

She bit her lip and blushed a deeper shade of pink. “I should finish getting you clean.”

Clean was not what he was most interested in getting, but he did not object.

He expected Sansa to start washing his hair as she had finished cleaning most everything else, but Sansa reached for the washcloth instead.

… And sank to her knees in front of him.

His blood had already been up, but the rush of heat he felt now was overwhelming.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice coming out low and hoarse.

She looked up at him and reached for the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. “I know. I want to.”

He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could feel her releasing his cock, stroking it with the warm, soft washcloth, and then fondling his balls with it.

It was nothing like the way she had washed him last time. Last time she had actually been attempting to clean him, though she had lingered over her task a little more than necessary. Now she was teasing him. Pleasuring him. 

She did a lot of different things, but he liked it best when she wrapped her fingers and the washcloth around his shaft, moving the soft cloth up and down, slowly and sensuously.

“Sansa,” he groaned after a while, unable to look down at her. Unable to do anything but sit still and let her fondle him.

As if she had been waiting for him to say her name, she immediately responded by closing her lips around the head of his cock and sucking gently, the washcloth forgotten.

His eyes flew open. She looked beautiful between his thighs: flushed and a little disheveled. Her eyes were closed, and she kept pushing a stubborn lock of hair away from her nose. He wished he could hold her hair back for her. He wished he could run his fingers through her hair and massage the back of her neck as she sucked him, causing little fireworks to go off along his nerve endings.

More than anything else, he wished he could return the favour. He wanted to return every spark of pleasure she was giving him with interest, and he wanted to do it _now._

“I wish I could do this for you,” he rasped, enjoying the way she began to bob her head at his words. “I want to see what your face looks like when you come,” he continued, unable to help himself. “I want to - “ he groaned as she swirled her tongue in a particularly pleasurable way, “ _fuck -_ ”

There was a faint pop and Sansa pulled back. She looked up at him with hooded eyes.

“You really want to see that?” she asked, her voice absurdly shy, her cheeks pink.

“ _Yes._ ”

Sansa bit her lip, and after a moment of apparent indecision she let one of her hands trail down over the front of her body until it disappeared beneath her skirt.

Stannis swallowed.

“Please keep talking,” she whispered, before bending forward to start sucking him again.

He didn’t know what to say. He’d never been asked to talk dirty before.

In some of the adult films he had seen in his time it was common practise for dirty talk to consist of what he would consider verbal abuse, and he didn’t feel comfortable with calling Sansa his ‘dirty little slut’.

“This feels good,” he tried after hesitating for a little too long. He grimaced at how stupid and pointless the words sounded.

Sansa sucked harder.

Cautiously encouraged, Stannis kept trying.

“Your mouth is very hot… and - and your lips are so soft… fuck… this feels so fucking good...”

Even though it felt very odd to talk like this, it was getting to him. He was already nearing his release, and he could see that Sansa was moving her hand almost frantically under her skirt.

“I wish I could see what you’re doing,” he groaned, trying to imagine the sight of her fingers playing with her clit, or maybe she was pumping them into her cunt? He tried to listen for the wet sounds, but all he could hear was the sound of the enthusiastic blowjob she was giving him. The hand that wasn’t hidden under her skirt was wrapped firmly around his cock, and she was bobbing and sucking like he was the best thing she’d ever had in her mouth. His balls were already starting to tighten up.

“I want to watch you play with yourself,” he confessed, too far gone to feel embarrassed. Anyway, this was _easy._ Talking to her like this seemed natural now that he was on a roll. This was just a way of being honest. “I want to see you naked and spread out, touching yourself like you’re touching yourself now, or using a toy perhaps.”

He closed his eyes and visualised it: Sansa’s naked body on full display, one hand working to fill herself with a suitably thick toy, the other pinching a nipple… Stannis felt fresh arousal pulse through his veins as he lingered over the mental image.

When he opened his eyes to take in the no less erotic image of her on her knees with her mouth stuffed with his cock and her hand working under her skirt, a strangled noise escaped him.

“ _Fuck,_ I can’t...”

He really couldn’t.

Sansa swallowed every last drop. The hand under her skirt stopped moving.

“Did you… ?”

Sansa shook her head, but softened the blow by smiling. “Almost.”

He hesitated, feeling a little awkward now that the heat of his own arousal had dimmed. “You don’t have to stop.”

“It’s okay,” she said, getting to her feet. “It usually takes me a while.” Her cheeks were stained red.

“I don’t mind,” he said, watching her with a single-minded focus that made it impossible for him to notice anything else in his surroundings. “Take as long as you want.”

Sansa seemed flustered and unconvinced.

Stannis tore his eyes away from her and looked thoughtfully at the counter where the marble sink was located. It might be the right height.

“Sit on the counter,” he ordered, licking his lips unconsciously.

“On the counter? Why?”

He raised an eyebrow.

Sansa didn’t seem to understand, but she did as he bid. 

_I was right._ Sitting in his wheelchair, he was just able to position himself so that his head was level with her hips. She just needed to spread her thighs wide and sit right on the edge…

“Are you wearing underwear?” he asked, feeling his heart beat faster up, and sweat coat his palms.

Sansa nodded. She still looked puzzled, though there was a spark of uncertain understanding in her eyes.

“Take it off. Spread your thighs.”

She sucked in a loud breath, but did as he asked after a moment of dithering. “What are you - oh!”

He hadn’t wasted any time. Rather than answer more questions, he had leant forward and put his head under her skirt. He couldn’t see what he was doing, but he could smell her musky arousal, and it wasn’t difficult to map her folds with his tongue. She was soft and not particularly hairy, and after a bit of a search he found the hood that hid her clitoris. Judging by the yelp she gave when he flicked his tongue over it, she needed less direct stimulation. He made a note of it, and started to experiment with different tongue movements. Did she like it when he lapped at her with the flat of his tongue, or would she prefer more focused movements? He had heard somewhere that a man ought attempt to spell the alphabet with his tongue...

Pleasing a woman like this was a challenge, and Stannis felt a little uneasy because he couldn’t hold onto her thighs. If she decided to squeeze his head between them, he’d be helpless. So far she was keeping them nice and spread, however, and he had no problem breathing.

Sansa was the one having trouble breathing. She was gasping and panting, and suddenly - when he had reached the letter ‘o’ - she grabbed his head and tugged him closer.

“Mmf.”

“Sorry,” she breathed, releasing her death grip. “That felt good.”

_’O’ it is._

Now that he knew what she liked best, he kept at it, resisting the urge to smirk when she started to squeal and whimper. He wished he could see her face.

“Stannis! Oh, gods! Don’t stop!”

Stannis swore to himself that he would make her cry out like that when he was finally able to fuck her. He wanted to hear her moan for his cock… beg for it. He wanted to see the look on her face when he pushed himself all the way into her after teasing her with just the head for a while.

He hoped she’d be as wet then as she was now.

Her thighs were quivering, and she was squealing at a pitch so high that it was a wonder he could still hear her; a sound like that should really be out of the human hearing range. Her body was tense, and he knew she just needed a bit more…

He sucked.

She nearly collapsed off the counter when the tension broke and she reached her peak. Somehow she managed to hold on. He was grateful for it. If she had fallen into his arms they might both have ended up injured.

He kept lapping at her, but more gently, and waited until she started to shift and shy away.

When he emerged from under her skirt their eyes met, and Stannis couldn’t help but feel a little smug at the dazed look he was faced with.

“I liked that,” she said, sounding punch-drunk. She gave him a silly little smile.

His own lips quirked in response. “Good.”

Still looking a little dazed, she tilted her head to the left. “Would you really want to watch me play with a - a toy?”

A warm rush of arousal rushed through him and settled in his groin. He wasn’t ready to get hard again, but it wouldn’t be long, now.

“I’d rather watch you play with something else,” he admitted, visualising the way she might palm his cock and place it at her entrance, encouraging him to thrust…

“I’ve never used the kind of toy that’s meant to go _inside,_ ” Sansa confessed with a blush. “I had a little vibrator once, but I… I lost it.”

Stannis raised a brow. She _lost_ it?

She chewed on her lip. “I mean, I know where it _was_ ,” she explained. “I kept it at Harry’s place. I didn’t want to risk my roommate finding it in my nightstand. She can never mind her own business. I left it there when we broke up. I don’t know where it is now, and I don’t particularly want to.”

_Harry. The serious boyfriend. The Cheater._

Stannis did not want to think about The Cheater using a vibrator on Sansa. He did not mind the thought of her using it on her own, however.

“Did you like it?”

“The vibrator?” She was blushing bright red. “Um, yeah.”

He nodded, not feeling up to asking her more questions. His mind was becoming full of images that involved Sansa pressing a vibrator against herself and squirming around in pleasure. Soon he had joined her in his mind’s eye and taken control, tormenting her with pleasure until she sobbed.

His cock twitched hopefully.

“I had better get you dressed,” Sansa said, breaking the heated silence that had fallen.

Stannis would much rather have had her undress herself and allow him a good long look, but he submitted to her care as gracefully as he could. Soon he’d be out of his casts, and she had promised that he could do whatever he liked when he was back to full health.

Gods, but he wished time would go faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the song](https://youtu.be/mWOTdt9Bovk) Sansa was singing along with, ( _Me and Mrs. Jones_ by Billy Paul), and the following quote about the English language was paraphrased in her thoughts:
> 
> "The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary." - James Nicoll


	10. An Unexpected Visit

The end of the month was approaching, and soon it would be time to take Stannis to the hospital to have his casts removed. Sansa was looking forward to it, but a part of her was also dreading it.

Stannis _seemed_ committed to her and their budding relationship, but she couldn’t help but remember what he’d said about his previous passions having been fleeting, and she worried that he’d lose interest in her once she was no longer around every day. She’d have to leave and go back to the Vale for school soon, and long distance relationships were always difficult.

What if they had sex, and it didn’t live up to his expectations? What if he realised that she wasn’t as exciting as he thought? What if his desire for her only stemmed from his inability to have her while he was incapacitated?

The more logical half of her brain knew that there was more to Stannis’ interest in her than that; why else would he have confided in her? Let her see him at his most vulnerable? Spoken to her like an equal? Expressed an interest in her dreams, her hopes and aspirations? Surely he wouldn’t have done any of that if he only wanted to fuck her and then forget her… would he?

It would break her heart if that were to happen.

She had tried not to let herself get too carried away with this romance, but she knew she would be lying to herself if she pretended that she wasn’t well on her way to falling in love. It took every ounce of her strength not to get wrapped up in Stannis’ kisses each time, and she always had to be careful not to reveal how weak in the knees he could make her with a single glance. It was getting harder and harder to keep from touching him when he gave her one of his heated looks - she gave in more often than not - and she was already unable to say no whenever he offered to see to her pleasure.

Stannis was certainly a lot more generous with his mouth than Harry had been. Generous and… talented. Consequently, she mostly wore skirts nowadays, but today she was wearing a dress.

Stannis had told her that he’d liked it when she had worn it on her first day of caring for him in King’s Landing, and she wanted to wear it again for him. With no pool anywhere in the vicinity there was no reason to wear a bikini underneath, however, so she had slipped the white sundress over nothing at all. Tousled hair and glistening red lips completed the look. Hopefully he’d notice and appreciate her efforts. Sansa knew it wasn’t very nice of her, but there was a small part of her that really liked the desperate noises she could sometimes get him to make. 

_But soon he’ll be out of his casts,_ Sansa reminded herself. And after that she very much doubted she’d be able to tease him much. He’d be able to come after her.

Her skin prickled with excitement at the thought.

“Ready for breakfast?” Sansa called through his door, taking a moment to breathe and attempt to calm her heartbeat.

“Yes, come in.”

She pretended not to notice the way his eyes widened when he caught sight of her. She pretended everything was perfectly normal, and that Stannis was not staring at the way her nipples were probably making it quite clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Fruit salad today,” she chirped.

Stannis only grunted in response.

She bent over more than she probably needed to as she got Stannis into a seated position and placed the tray of food in front of him, letting him glimpse her cleavage as much as possible.

Keeping a straight face got much more difficult when she noticed the bulge tenting Stannis’ covers. He was already looking at her in that way that made her knees feel weak.

“What are you wearing?” he rasped, finding his words at last.

“A dress,” she said, making her voice coy.

He muttered an oath under his breath.

She loaded a fork with pieces of cantaloupe and banana and held it out for him. He accepted the food, and stared at her as he chewed.

“Do you like it?”

“The dress or the salad?” Stannis asked, pursing his lips.

She shrugged and suppressed a giggle.

“The salad is fine,” Stannis said, clearing his throat. His eyes darkened. “The dress makes a mockery of all things decent.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head to the side and fed him another bite. Kiwi and pear.

His eyes continued to smoulder as he swallowed.

“You might as well be naked,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower octave. It sent a rush of heat through her, and she felt moisture pooling between her thighs.

Determined to hold her own, Sansa tilted her head to the side. “How would you know? You’ve never seen me naked.”

It was true. Though they had done quite a bit, and though Stannis had been under her skirts more times than she could count, she had never taken her clothes off entirely. It was probably stupid, but Sansa had wanted to save something for later.

“Sansa…” Stannis said, his eyes burning a hole through her, the need in his voice making her want to take her dress off at once.

Instead of giving into the urge to show him everything he clearly wanted to see, Sansa plucked a strawberry from the salad and placed it between her lips, maintaining eye contact with Stannis as she bit into it. She felt a bit of strawberry juice run down her chin. She swallowed the sweet morsel and brought up a finger to wipe away the juice.

Stannis’ lips were parted. His eyes were almost completely black.

She sucked her finger into her mouth as ostentatiously as she could, and hummed with pleasure. “Mmm, so good.”

Perhaps Stannis would have made one of those desperate little noises of his after that, or maybe he would have tried to convince her to take her dress off. Sansa would never know.

A loud knock at the door shattered the mood. A loud knock followed by the door bursting open before either one of them had a chance to react.

“Stannis, I need your opinion on this merger. Davos is doing his best, but this is import-.” 

There was a loud crash. Stannis had jerked his knee up at the sight of his older brother, causing his breakfast tray to fly to the floor.

Robert trailed off, looking startled at the noise Stannis had made.

Sansa bent down to pick up the bowl and the bits of fruit, relieved to have a chance to hide her red face.

“What the devil is a matter with you?” Robert asked, sounding baffled.

“Nothing,” Stannis said. Sansa could tell he was speaking through clenched teeth.

“Well, you look like you just got caught sticking your cock in the cookie jar.” Robert laughed loudly, and Sansa wondered if she could just stay hidden forever.

“Do you need any help down there, Sansa?” Robert said once he managed to stop laughing, a note of affable concern in his voice.

She rose up slowly, hoping that her blush had faded. “No, that’s fine. Thank you. I’ll just leave you two to talk.”

Before she had a chance to leave, Robert held up a hand to stop her. He was looking at her dress and her lipstick, but once he had looked his fill he glanced at Stannis, and Sansa followed his eyes. Stannis’ face was pinched and guilt-stricken.

“There was a woman on the ferry,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “who asked me if I was aware that my brother was fooling around with an underage girl. I told her Stannis Baratheon would sooner walk naked through the streets of King’s Landing than do a thing like that.”

There was a long tense silence.

Sansa took a deep breath. “I’m not underage.”

“Get out,” Robert said, shooting her a furious look. “I have things I need to discuss with my _brother._ ”

“She stays, Robert.” Stannis was looking furious now, his guilt long gone.

“When I told Ned that Sansa would be going to stay on Dragonstone for the rest of the summer I said he had nothing to worry about!” Robert bellowed. “I promised she’d be safe!”

“I am safe,” Sansa said, lifting her chin.

“Don’t be absurd,” Robert spat, “you’re dressed like a whore.”

She felt as if he’d backhanded her like he had Cersei. Maybe it would be best if she left the two brothers alone.

“Apologise,” Stannis commanded, glaring daggers at Robert.

“I will not!” Robert shouted. “The gods only know what sort of perverted fantasies you’ve been forcing her to fulfil. It ends _now._ I never would have thought you capable of this. Never!”

“Apologise to her right now, or I swear on our mother’s grave I will make you regret it.”

Robert gave a derisive laugh. “How are _you_ going to make _me_ regret anything?”

“I won’t be in these casts forever,” Stannis said, almost growling.

“No, but you’ll be in a new set of casts once Ned gets a hold of you,” Robert threatened, his face purple with rage.

“My father is not going to hurt anyone,” Sansa said, her voice shaking a little. “Stannis and I are dating. He is not forcing me to do anything. The way I choose to dress is none of your business. Our relationship is none of your business.”

It was hard to get the words out, but Stannis had nodded along with her, which made it easier. Warmth filled her heart when he nodded especially firmly when she said they were dating. If he was willing to admit it to Robert… it all had to be real to him. _She_ had to be real to him.

Robert’s eyes grew as large as saucers. “Dating?!” He looked at Stannis. “DATING?!”

“Yes, Robert. Is that so hard to believe?” Stannis was scowling so viciously that Sansa could hardly recognise him. She had never seen him look so offended.

There was another long, tense silence.

It was broken when Robert let out a long breath, his large body deflating like a balloon that had been filled with too much air. His shoulders started to shake. For a moment Sansa was afraid he was about to cry. 

That was before the laughter started.

“Stannis Baratheon, dating his little nurse!” Robert exclaimed, cackling with glee. “I have to call Renly!”

Sansa cast a helpless look in Stannis’ direction. He was still scowling.

“Wait ‘til he hears!” Robert chuckled, already fishing his phone out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

“Please,” Sansa said, realising Stannis was not about to say anything. “This is still very new. We’d like to tell my parents before this goes any further.”

Robert looked at her with a disappointed expression. “Oh?”

“Yes, I don’t want them to hear about it from someone else, and you know how fast this kind of gossip can travel.” Sansa’s heart was pounding. She knew it was probably hopeless to ask Robert to keep his mouth shut, but she had to try. “Please. For my father’s sake.”

“For Ned, eh?” Robert actually looked like he was considering it. His phone was in his hand.

Stannis was no longer glaring at his brother. He was scowling at the window, a far-off look in his eyes. He looked… sad.

“And for us,” Sansa said. “For your brother.”

Robert glanced at Stannis and seemed to think it over. The phone went back to the breast pocket, and Robert nodded. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Sansa breathed, relief sweeping through her.

Stannis was regarding his brother with suspicion. “What do you want in return?”

“An explanation would be nice,” Robert muttered.

“What’s to explain?” Stannis snapped. “Surely you’re aware of what happens when two adults discover a mutual interest in one another.”

“I didn’t think you ever got interested in women,” Robert said, shrugging. “Melisandre is always complaining about how you never pick up on her hints. And if you’re capable of ignoring a woman like that...”

“Melisandre’s a witch,” Stannis said moodily.

“All part of the appeal.” Robert grinned. “But I see you like them a little wet behind the ears. Nothing wrong with that.” The grin turned into more of a leer.

Sansa blinked at Robert, unable to comprehend how he could act overprotective of her one minute, and then leer over her youth the next.

“You still haven’t apologised to Sansa,” Stannis said, steel in his voice.

“Hmm?” Robert blinked at them both in turn. “Oh, well, you know I didn’t mean any harm.”

She blushed and looked down at her hands.

“And I mean - what was I supposed to think? She’s dressed like -”

“ _Robert._ ”

“- _that._ ” Robert waved a hand at her dress.

There was an awkward silence. Sansa didn’t look up, but she got the feeling the two brothers were communicating furiously without words.

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” Robert eventually said, sounding a little exasperated.

“That’s all right, Robert,” she said, though she would not forget the assumptions he had made in a hurry. The fact that he had immediately thought Stannis was forcing her to fulfil perverse fantasies when he had seen her told her a lot more about Robert’s character than it did about Stannis’.

“Now, could we discuss the damn merger?” Robert said, directing his words at Stannis.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Sansa hurried to say, relieved to have an opportunity to go and put something more appropriate on. She was not ashamed of what she was wearing, but it had been meant for Stannis’ eyes only.

She felt strangely light as she left the room, however, and not at all embarrassed. It hadn’t been nice to have Robert barge in and start shouting, but his interruption had given Sansa the peace of mind she had been missing.

Stannis truly wanted a _real_ relationship with her. She was sure of it.

***

Stannis sighed with relief when Robert left. For the first time in weeks he felt the need to have nap. His brother’s sudden arrival and demanding presence had been draining.

Why did Robert always have to have such abhorrent timing?

He was sure his morning would have been _much_ better if Robert had stayed away. Sansa had been in such a playful mood…

Of course, it had been gratifying to see the way Sansa had stood up for herself and their relationship. She hadn’t let Robert’s bluster dissuade her. Considering the fact that Stannis had seen grown men shrink away from Robert when he was in one of his moods, he found Sansa’s ability to stand tall quite impressive. She had even persuaded Robert to keep what he had seen to himself, although Stannis was certain his brother would not be able to stay quiet for long. It was not in his nature. He and Sansa would need to inform her parents of their relationship sooner rather than later.

Still, he would much rather have spent the morning with her.

It had taken an age to convince Robert that Davos had been quite right to advise against the merger of one of their daughter companies to a daughter company the Tyrells controlled. The deal the Tyrells had proposed was preposterous, but Robert hadn’t been able to see the problematic parts of the contract until Stannis had pointed them out, one by one.

Stannis’ stomach growled. He hadn’t managed to eat very much of his breakfast before Robert had barged in. He wasn’t sure he’d survive until one o’clock.

As if she had read his mind, Sansa knocked and then proceeded to carry in a tray laden with food.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said with a smile. She was no longer wearing her scandalous dress.

_Pity._

His thought were occupied by food for the next fifteen minutes, though he thoroughly enjoyed the way Sansa smiled at him, and how affectionate she was. Her disposition seemed even sweeter than ever before.

“Would you like me to read?” she offered after she had cleared the empty plates away.

He nodded, wanting to keep her close.

She had only made it through a page when she started touching him, stroking his face and neck. It felt good, so he closed his eyes and did his best to lean into her touch.

Another page and the book was abandoned.

She kissed him, moaning as he quickly took advantage of her parted lips.

They were breathing heavily by the time she pulled away.

“What was that for?” he asked, hoping that it was something he’d done. If so, he’d make sure to keep doing it.

“For telling Robert about us. Being willing to tell Mum and Dad.” She was smiling very brightly.

Technically, Sansa had told Robert about them. But it had been the right thing to do, and he would have told Robert himself if Sansa hadn’t beaten him to it. “I’ll put a piece in the newspaper if you like,” he said, his eyes fixed on her lips.

She laughed, and his stomach did a flip at the sound. He liked it when she laughed.

“Maybe not quite yet,” she said, grinning. “But I’d like it if you could be there when I call home.”

Stannis swallowed. “As you like.”

“They won’t be difficult,” Sansa said, trailing her fingertips down from his cheek to his neck. “My parents know I make my own decisions.”

“It would be rather medieval of them to expect us to ask their permission.”

Sansa laughed again. “I know. Like I said to Robert, I just want my parents to hear it from me first. I don’t want them to hear some garbled version of the truth and get the wrong idea.”

“Sensible,” he said, nodding. He couldn’t help feeling a little nervous at the idea of that phone call, however. He didn’t think Ned would shout like Robert, but he doubted the man would be _pleased._ And no matter what Sansa said, Ned would suspect things. Justifiably. He wasn’t sure how Catelyn would react, however. He didn’t know her at all.

 _At least I won’t have to look them in the eyes,_ Stannis thought.

“We don’t have to call them right away,” Sansa said. “Let’s leave it for a few days.”

Stannis was probably a bit too eager to agree, but Sansa didn’t seem to mind. She just kissed him again.

***

The phone rang four times before her father picked up.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Sansa smiled at the familiar endearment. “Hi, Dad. I’m putting you on speaker,” she said, pressing the appropriate button on her phone. “Stannis can hear you now.”

“Hello, Stannis,” her father said. “You must be looking forward to getting your casts off tomorrow.”

“I am,” Stannis said.

They were all silent for a moment.

“Is Mum around?” Sansa asked. Her mother was usually the one who answered whenever Sansa called the landline.

“She’s out with some friends, I think.”

Sansa looked at Stannis. Should they still tell her father the news?

Her father cleared his throat. “You said in your email that you had something to tell us?”

Sansa kept looking at Stannis, uncertain of how to proceed. He nodded.

She decided to just get it over with. Her father would be able to tell her mother about it later. “Stannis and I are dating,” she said, shooting Stannis a little smile. It was surprisingly easy to get the words out. She wondered whether it was because she had already said it to Robert a few days ago.

“... I see.”

“Nothing’s going to change,” Sansa hurried to add. “I’m still going to come home to Winterfell next week like I planned and then to Uni and everything. We’re just going to take things slow and see how it goes.”

“I see,” her father repeated. There was a pause. “And this came about… recently?”

“Yes,” Sansa said, feeling herself blush. “We’ve grown closer since we moved to Dragonstone, and - and Stannis asked me if I’d like to go to dinner with him once he’s on his feet.”

_After I gave him a handjob._

Stannis’ jaw appeared locked, and she was fairly sure he had just had the same though she had.

“Is it - is it okay? With you?” Sansa’s bottom lip was starting to hurt due to the way she was chewing on it.

“You’re a grown woman, Sansa,” her father sighed. “It’s your life.” He didn’t sound particularly pleased.

“I know,” she said, “but I’d still like to know you support us.”

“I support you as long as you’re happy.”

“I am happy,” Sansa rushed to say. “So happy.” She smiled at Stannis, and his jaw appeared a little less locked.

Her father just grunted in response, but Sansa thought it was a good sort of grunt. “Well, your mother will probably be thrilled.”

Stannis furrowed his brow. Sansa wordlessly told him that she would explain later,

“I hope so. You’ll tell her, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

The conversation came to an end shortly thereafter, and they all said their goodbyes. Stannis sounded much too formal.

“Why will your mother probably be thrilled?” Stannis asked as soon as her father was off the line.

“Unlike my previous boyfriends, you’ve got a good family name and a house and everything,” Sansa said with a shrug. “She’s old fashioned. If you meet her anytime soon you should just ignore her if she starts to talk about marriage.”

Stannis raised both eyebrows for a moment, but composed himself quickly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyway, I think that went really well!” It was such a relief to know that her parents knew about Stannis now. It made everything feel more… official.

“You made it seem like our relationship hadn’t progressed very far,” Stannis said, a critical note in his voice.

She gave him an exasperated look. “Did you want me to tell him that I’d let you live with your head between my legs if you wanted to?”

Stannis reddened. “No.”

“What he doesn’t know, won’t worry him,” she said firmly.

“I suppose.”

There was a short silence.

“It will be strange after tomorrow,” Sansa said with a smile.

“What will?”

Sansa shrugged. “Staying here. You might not need me to help you as much. I’ll just be like a… house guest.” She decided not to say ‘girlfriend’ at the last moment.

“You’ll be more than a house guest,” Stannis said, his eyes darkening.

“Oh?” She caught a lock of her hair and wound it around a finger. It was nervous more than flirtatious, but hopefully Stannis wouldn’t realise.

“Much more,” he added, his voice rough.

Her breath hitched in her throat. “How do you mean?”

Stannis swallowed. “You’d be welcome to stay in here with me,” he said, his eyes boring into her.

_Sex. He’s talking about sex._

“I thought you were going to take me to dinner,” she said, her heart beating hard and her face feeling warm.

“We can go to dinner after we go to the hospital tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “You’ll probably going to need a bit of time to get used to using your hands again. You might even have to wear splints for a while.”

Stannis made an irritated sound at the back of throat, but didn’t argue.

“We can figure it out later,” she suggested. It was flattering to hear how much he wanted their relationship to progress, and she wanted it too, but Sansa was starting to think it would be better in the long run if they didn’t rush things. She didn’t want there to be any more misunderstandings between them, and when she had rushed that first handjob and then followed it with a rushed blowjob it had definitely led to misunderstandings.

Anyway, she had a feeling they would both enjoy it more if he was back to full strength when they did take that step. A pleasureable little shudder made its way down her spine as she imagined what it would be like to have Stannis on top of her, putting his back - and all of his well-formed muscles - into each thrust.

She was willing to wait for that.

… But hopefully it wouldn’t be a very long wait.


	11. A Date

Stannis flexed his hand. _Free at last._ His fingers felt odd. Everything felt odd. The foot that had been in a cast was swollen. He reminded himself to thank Sansa for convincing him to buy a pair of sandals to wear while the swelling went down. He would probably never wear them again in his life, but at least he wouldn’t be in any more pain than necessary for the present moment.

“When can I start exercising?” Lying around and eating for weeks on end wasn’t what his body was used to. He felt flabby and weak, and he was itching to get back to his routine.

“Not quite yet,” Pylos said, frowning. “Your physical therapist will tell you when you’re ready for that.”

Pylos had already looked at the X-rays, examined Stannis thoroughly, and determined that he would be able to go without splints if he was careful, and didn’t overexert himself.

“Will your - will the young lady be able to help you around the house for the next few weeks?” Pylos asked, glancing at the door. Sansa was waiting outside.

“For the next few days,” Stannis said. “She’s going back to University soon.”

“Well, that’s something,” Pylos said, scratching out a note on a pad on his desk. “The first few days are the most important. You’ll have to be very careful not to strain yourself. It will be tempting, but you mustn’t undo the progress you’ve made.” Pylos glanced at the door as if he could see Sansa through it, and gave Stannis a significant look.

Stannis nodded, feeling his face heat up. What Pylos had said had sounded an awful lot like: _Don’t have sex._

“Understood.”

“As always, you’re welcome to call the hospital if there’s anything you wish to discuss. I’ll always try to get back to you as soon as I’m able.”

Pylos handed him some fresh prescriptions, wheeled his chair to the door, and patted him on the back instead of shaking his hand before he left. Apparently, Stannis was not supposed to shake hands for the next few days, either.

Sansa greeted him on the other side, looking both excited and worried.

“How did it go? Are the sandals okay? Oh, your hands!”

He let her take one of his hands in hers. She was even gentler than Pylos had been when the doctor had examined each hand in turn, and much more affectionate. It felt good to feel her touch in a place that had been beyond her reach up until now.

“It went well. The sandals are fine,” he said, clearing his throat and swallowing a few times. It was a little overwhelming to be able to hold hands with her, but Stannis knew it would feel even better if he could do it while standing on his own two feet.

 _I can do that now,_ he reminded himself. He’d done it once for Doctor Pylos already, and he was allowed.

He rose from the chair, determined to face Sansa like someone _whole._

She looked up at him, and for a moment everything felt like it should feel. He kissed her, not caring that they were in a hospital corridor where anyone might come upon them. Her lips had never tasted this sweet, and Stannis wished he could just keep kissing her until his lungs ran out of air. His bad leg was already complaining about the weight Stannis had placed on it, however, which dampened his enthusiasm.

He pulled back, watching as Sansa’s eye slowly fluttered open. She looked happy and a little dazed.

There was a moment of silence, and then Sansa seemed to come to her senses. “Are you allowed to walk?” she asked, glancing at his wheelchair.

“Yes,” he said, wishing he could leave it at that. “Unfortunately I’m not really allowed to do much of it. Not unsupported, at least. Doctor Pylos recommended that I should stick to simple things like standing up and sitting down, and transferring myself from chair to chair for the first couple of days. Or until my physical therapist says I can do more.”

Sansa let go of his hand. “You had better sit back down, then.”

He sat down though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He had liked the way it felt to stand before Sansa like a man: whole and healthy. Despite the dull pain in his still-healing leg, it had felt good to stand unsupported. It had felt even better to hold Sansa’s hands.

He wished he was fully healed already. He hated how much time all of this was taking.

Sansa started to push him down the corridor, the wheels of the chair turning smoothly.

“What do you want to do?” she asked after a little while.

“I _want_ to take you to dinner,” he said, allowing his irritation to bleed into the words, “but apparently I must subject myself to more rest.”

“Resting can be nice,” Sansa said, a teasing quality to her voice. “We could have dinner in bed.”

He turned and tried to glimpse her face. She was biting her lip and blushing faintly.

“I’m not supposed to…” he trailed off, feeling uncertain. He wasn’t sure whether she had been offering what he hoped she had been offering.

“You’re not supposed to eat?” He didn’t have to look around again to know she was poking fun at him.

“Of course I’m supposed to eat,” he muttered.

“Then it’s settled,” Sansa said cheerfully. “We’ll rest and eat.”

As it turned out, that was exactly what she had in store for him that night.

***

“Wait in here,” Sansa said, depositing Stannis in his study. “I’m going to talk to Ivar and get everything ready. Do you think you’ll be able to use the computer?”

Stannis flexed his hands, grimacing a little. They were stiff and it hurt to move them in certain ways, but he was fairly sure he’d be able to operate a mouse. He wouldn’t be able to do much typing, but he’d be able to browse the news. He nodded at Sansa.

“I’ll pick you up in about an hour for our date,” Sansa said, winking at him.

He nodded again, and tried not to scowl. _He_ should be the one picking _her_ up for dates.

Not for the first time, Stannis wondered what Sansa saw in him.

Being able to use a computer again - all on his own - kept Stannis distracted from any difficult thoughts for the next hour, and he was almost surprised when Sansa knocked. Time had gone by very quickly.

“Ready?” she asked, pushing what appeared to be a freshly curled lock of hair behind an ear.

Stannis blinked at her, unable to speak. Sansa always looked beautiful, but tonight… tonight she had dressed up, and she was _stunning._. Her dress was blue, but it wasn’t the same blue dress she had worn for her date with Joffrey. This one was darker, almost cobalt. It was also quite… form fitting. He tried not to stare at her curves, but it was difficult. He didn’t know where to put his eyes. Her face was usually a safe bet, but at the moment her lips were very shiny and red, and her eyes were outlined in a way that made them seem bigger than usual, and it was all just a little too much for him to cope with.

“Yes,” he managed to say after a long pause. For a moment he had forgotten that she had asked a question. “You dressed up,” he added, watching her avidly as she approached his wheelchair.

“Do you like it?” she asked, blushing.

“Yes.” He couldn’t stop staring.

Perhaps it was a good thing that she was obliged to walk behind him while she pushed the wheelchair to his room. With her out of his line of sight he remembered more of his vocabulary.

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly, staring down at the loose trousers and sandals he was still wearing.

“Thank you.” They stopped moving for a moment and Sansa kissed his cheek.

His room was nothing like he had left it. It was lit entirely by candles, lending the severe decor a romantic feel that Stannis would not have believed possible if he weren’t staring it in the face. There was a picnic spread out on his neatly made bed, and a jug of lemon water and crystal glasses had been placed on his nightstand.

“We can eat right away if you’re hungry,” Sansa said, walking around to face him, “but I thought you might want to change into something nicer first. I mean, you don’t have to, it’s just an idea and -”

“I want to,” he said, eager to feel like _himself._

Sansa wheeled him into the walk-in closet.

“Will you need help? Or do you want me to leave you to it?”

Stannis knew he’d need help with the shirt buttons and his tie, but he’d probably be able to do everything else. “Let me get started on my own.”

Sansa nodded and retreated.

It went slowly, but eventually he had suit trousers and dress socks on - no shoes, but they were going to eat in bed, and Sansa probably wouldn’t wear shoes, either - and he’d managed to get an unbuttoned shirt, a suit jacket, and a tie on. He had even managed a belt.

“Sansa?” He would need her help to get himself presentable.

Sansa answered his call promptly, but she stopped as soon as she saw him. Stopped and _stared._

For an awkward second, Stannis wondered if he had accidentally put some of his clothes on the wrong way around, but then he noticed the way Sansa was raking her eyes over his form, letting them linger on his exposed chest. He had noticed her shoot him similar looks before, but this was a bit more… blatant. He wasn’t quite sure whether to feel pleased or embarrassed.

Their eyes met, and a pulse of heat shot through him. _Pleased. Definitely pleased._

“Looks like you’re all done,” she said with a teasing smile. “Let’s eat!”

His lips twitched. “I’d like to do the buttons up,” he said, though he wouldn’t really mind wearing his shirt open and his tie undone if she kept looking at him like that.

Sansa gave him an exaggerated pout. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, feeling amused and much taller somehow. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to standing around Sansa. She was fairly tall for a woman, but now that he wasn’t sitting or lying down, he towered over her.

It was surprisingly sexy when she started to button him up. Usually when she helped him dress it was just... routine. But now, now she was teasing his skin with the tips of her fingers before she hid it away, shooting him flirtatious looks, and making him shiver.

“Mum does this for Dad sometimes,” Sansa said as she started to knot his tie. “She taught me how to do it when I was little, and I always used to think Dad might ask me to help whenever Mum wasn’t around.” Sansa paused and smiled a little sadly. “I was always Mum’s little helper.”

“But he didn’t?” Stannis guessed, watching Sansa’s eyes as she smoothed the dark blue tie he had chosen to match her dress down over the front of his shirt.

“No. He usually asked Robb,” Sansa said, her voice a little far away. “So he could learn how to do it, too,” she added, giving a tight smile.

“My father taught me how to tie a few knots,” Stannis offered, not knowing what else to say. For some reason it didn’t hurt to talk about his parents with Sansa. “I was eight. I remember he said that I mastered them all more quickly than Robert.”

It was one of the very few things - outside of school - that Stannis had mastered more quickly than Robert. But he did not want to think about Robert. Stannis was still angry with his brother for how he had treated Sansa during his delightful _visit._

Sansa’s smile became wide and genuine, and before Stannis knew it, she was kissing him, banishing all thoughts of Robert into oblivion.

“I think you’re ready,” she whispered as their lips parted.

He swallowed when he caught sight of himself in the full length mirror. He looked _normal._ Not like a patient at all, even though his skin was paler than usual.

“You look so handsome,” Sansa said, kissing his cheek and leaving a mark. His lips were stained red, too. He didn’t care. He’d let her leave lipstick marks all over his body if that was what she wanted.

She wiped it off with her thumb, however, apparently not in the mood to cover him in red marks. “Shall we go?”

He nodded, and Sansa drove him the short distance to the picnic in his wheelchair. He was able to get himself onto the bed without help, however, which felt like a victory.

They sat across from each other on top of the bedspread, the picnic between them, and Stannis examined the selection of little sandwiches and bite-sized delicacies Ivar had prepared for them with interest.

Sansa handed him a crystal glass full of lemon water and took one herself. “To healing,” she said, raising her glass. He raised his glass too, echoing her words, and they drank.

The food was easy enough to pick up, so Stannis was finally able to feed himself. On his own. Without any help. It was _wonderful._

“So, did you wear ties very often when you were eight?” Sansa asked after they had spent a little time sampling the food.

“School uniform,” Stannis explained.

They went on to compare notes regarding the different uniforms they had been obliged to wear as children, and Stannis was forced to work very hard on not imagining Sansa in a pleated skirt, his face heating up as he remembered one of his early fantasies about her.

Eventually they moved to a safer topics, and Sansa switched to dessert.

Dessert came in the form of little cakes and sweets, and since Stannis had been successfully feeding himself all through dinner, he decided - after receiving a very encouraging look - to attempt feeding Sansa for a change.

He enjoyed it more than he could possibly put into words.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was finally physically capable of it, it was also how intimate it felt to put one of those little lemon cakes she liked so much between her lips, watch her enjoy the taste, feel her lick his fingers in search of crumbs, hear her little sounds of pleasure…

 _I have to do this again._ “Another?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

They lingered over dessert for a long time, the room becoming hotter, and his tie somehow tighter around his neck with every little cake he fed her.

He was glad it was relatively dark. The bulge beneath his belt was less obvious that way.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try one?” Sansa asked when he had fed her all but one lemon cake.

“I’m sure,” he whispered, picking the cake up and offering it to her.

“I really shouldn’t,” Sansa said, biting her lip. “All this sugar will keep me awake.”

“In a hurry to go to sleep?” he asked, clearing his throat and trying to sound normal.

Sansa laughed. “I guess not.” She opened her mouth and closed her eyes.

Stannis bit back a moan when Sansa sucked one of his fingers into her mouth as she accepted the lemon cake. He pulled his finger away so that she’d be able to chew without trouble, and watched every move she made as she enjoyed the dessert, little noises of delight escaping her every now and again. He had been hard for a while now, but he was beyond the point of no return by the time she opened her eyes. He needed _something_ to happen.

For a moment he looked into her eyes, but then she parted her lips. _Gods._ They were still red and glossy and _inviting._

He lunged forward, kissing her and pushing the remains of the picnic to the floor. He pulled her into a lying position, tangling their bodies together, and trying to get every part of himself into direct contact with her. Several jolts of pain alerted Stannis to the fact that he was supposed to be careful, but he ignored them. The pleasures of Sansa’s lips, of her body, were too good to give up.

“We shouldn’t,” Sansa gasped, tearing her lips from his and sitting up. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

Stannis sat up too, shaking his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said quickly, trying to reclaim her lips.

Sansa placed her palm on his chest, halting his progress. “You’re a terrible liar. I can feel you tensing up when it hurts.”

He glared at her, and she took her hand away.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do this tonight,” Sansa said, sighing.

Stannis knew she was right, but he really didn’t want her to be. Feeling dejected and more grumpy than he could really recall, he let his shoulders slump. “Doctor Pylos may have indicated that I shouldn’t strain myself,” he muttered grudgingly.

His confession probably meant he had no chance of convincing Sansa to have sex tonight, but even though he was deeply annoyed about it, a tiny part of him was relieved. He wanted Sansa more than he had ever wanted anyone, but as much as he would jump at the chance to have her now, tonight, he knew that he would probably just end up disappointing her in his current condition. The idea of their first time being painful for him, and unsatisfactory for her left a sour taste in his mouth.

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” Sansa said, swatting his chest lightly. “You’re such a bad patient.” She didn’t seem too put out with him, however, as she then encouraged him to lie down again. He carefully put an arm around her, and she cuddled up to him.

“We’ve been able to make do with the casts getting in the way,” Stannis said, halfheartedly trying to explain himself. “I’m sure we can figure out a way to - er,”

“A way to disobey your doctor?” Sansa asked, sounding both stern and a little amused. She was petting his abdomen, and he wished she’d move her hand lower.

“Sansa,” he began, marshalling his thoughts and trying to come up with something to say.

“I know we _could_ figure out a way,” Sansa said, interrupting him, “but I don’t think I want to.”

His stomach shrank and his heart and his lungs stopped functioning for a moment. She didn’t want this anymore? Had she finally come to her senses? Realised that she was far too good for him, and that there was no reason for someone like her to lower herself to a sour old man with a receding hairline? _Why should she?_ a cruel voice whispered in the back of his mind. He really was too old for her, and she was so vibrant and beautiful and passionate… 

“I mean, I want to,” Sansa continued, “I really really want to, but I think it will be better if we wait until you’re not going to be in pain if we’re not careful the entire time.”

Stannis started to breathe again. “I - I understand.” He didn’t though. It really didn’t make any sense for Sansa to want him. An immature part of him was intrigued by her implied wish to have sex that was less than careful, but he impatiently shoved those thoughts aside.

“Do you still want me to sleep in here?” Sansa asked in a small voice.

“Of course. Yes.” The thought of her leaving him to sleep on his own was agonising.

Sansa let out a breath of relief that tickled his neck. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure there’s some other stuff we could do… carefully.”

_Other stuff?_

Sansa kissed him before he had a chance to ask. Kissing led to more kissing, which led to even more kissing, and then some touching. Some very… very good touching.

 _Don’t stop,_ he thought, biting back a groan when Sansa started to rub him more firmly through his trousers. For a while - out of habit - he did nothing but try to keep still, but then he realised he had his hands back, so he placed one over the hand she was stroking him with. _Just to encourage her,_ he promised himself. He’d let her go if it seemed like she wanted to pull away.

They kissed more fervently, their combined efforts causing pulse after pulse of arousal and pleasure to course through him, coiling at the base of his spine.

Suddenly Sansa broke their kiss and pulled her hand back. It was more difficult than Stannis had expected to let her go, but he did it. “I think you need to take some clothes off,” Sansa whispered, her eyes glinting in the candlelight.

Stannis had thought that Sansa buttoning his shirt up had been sexy, but it was nothing to the eroticism of her hands peeling his clothes off now. She fondled and kissed him at every opportunity, even licking his skin when she exposed it, and her hands were so _eager,_ her breathing so fast and excited.

It was impossible to experience it and not believe that she found him attractive. It was impossible to experience it and not become utterly, hopelessly _lost._

Which was why he felt rather dismayed when she stopped undressing him and got up from bed. 

He found some hope when it seemed that she was just getting rid of the bedspread - he lifted himself up so she’d be able to get it out from underneath him - but when he was settled among the soft covers and pillows, inhaling the scent of freshly laundered sheets, she didn’t join him.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, smiling reassuringly at him.

He watched her walk away, taking the remains of the picnic that had ended up on the floor with her. He resisted the urge to beg her not to leave, and tried to calm himself down. _She’ll be right back,_ he told himself, feeling the pressure in his groin increase exponentially now that he was not being touched anymore. He ignored it for a minute, trying to be patient, but his self control had worn very thin over the past weeks, and before he knew it, his right hand was beneath the waistband of his boxers. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent a noise from escaping as he started to stroke himself, mindlessly and inexpertly, drunk on his ability to do it at all. His hands was incredibly clumsy compared to Sansa’s sure ones, but it was blissful relief.

He let go of himself a little guiltily as soon as the door that connected their rooms opened. 

Sansa emerged, wearing a silver silk robe that came down to her knees; her legs and feet were bare. Stannis’ mouth went dry when she started to approach the bed, toying with her robe’s belt, and he wondered if she might be naked underneath. His cock twitched at the idea, and he shifted around, resisting the temptation to start touching himself again.

“Do you like it?” she asked, shooting him a shy smile.

 _I’d like it better if you took it off._ “Yes.”

Sansa’s expression changed, becoming less shy and more amused. “You just want me to take it off, don’t you?”

He swallowed and nodded, unable to deny the truth, visions of her breasts dancing before his mind’s eye. He’d seen enough to be able to picture them almost perfectly, even though he had never really seen them uncovered.

She bit her lip and hesitated for an eternal, torturous moment, but then she blushed and shrugged the robe off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet with a whisper, but she wasn’t naked underneath. She was in a matching silver negligé. It was all silk and lace, and had probably been created with the explicit purpose of tormenting him with glimpses and hints of things he would much rather just _see._

She walked towards him, much too slowly, and crawled into bed.

He welcomed her into his arms eagerly, barely waiting for her permission before he started running his hands over her, exploring the exposed skin of her arms and the silk of her negligé. She closed her eyes and hummed with pleasure.

She was warm and soft and _close._ It wasn’t sex, but he’d never been able to touch her like this, never had her in his arms wearing so little, and it was more than wonderful. It was… a revelation.

“I really like your hands,” Sansa sighed, smiling against the crook of his neck. He had been stroking her arm and her flank as gently as he could, enjoying the fact that he had his palms back. He wanted to cup her breasts and fondle her ass, but he was already painfully hard; he didn’t need to make things more difficult for himself.

“I like the way you touch me,” she continued, and he closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate on the way her lips felt as they moved against the skin of his neck. _Soft._

She moved a thigh until it nudged his erection, reaping a groan for her trouble.

“And I think you like touching me,” she whispered.

“Obviously,” he said without rancour. He could not deny it, and he did not wish to.

“I know we agreed not to… you know,” Sansa said, her voice both hesitant and a little playful, “but do you think this is too much?” She straddled him. Through the thin layers of silk and cotton they had on, Stannis could feel the heat of her, and a low moan of pleasure escaped him when she adjusted his cock so it would be lined up against her in the most intimate way possible. “What do you think?” she asked, rocking herself against him gently. She was looking at him with excitement and concern.

_I think we should take the rest of our clothes off._

“It’s good,” he said, not certain it would be entirely practical for him to voice his true thoughts.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” Sansa whispered, bending down to press her breasts against his chest and kiss his lips. She was still rocking against him in that maddening way. It did feel good, but he wished he was inside of her, rather than trapped within his underwear.

Soon her kisses distracted him from his frustration, however, and he let go of all rational thought. He focused on the way her tongue felt as it slipped into his mouth and licked at his own, the decadent softness of her soft silk-covered breasts, and the _heat._

Once they had kissed themselves breathless and licked and nibbled at each other’s necks, Sansa rose up. Smiling shyly, she reached for his hands and placed them gently on her breasts.

“Sansa,” he heard himself say. His voice sounded far away and garbled. Her nipples were hard little peaks pressed against his palms, and he wished he could pinch and roll them between his fingers. But his fingers weren’t quite up to it yet, clumsy and stiff as they were, so he forced himself to be content with the feel of the silk of her negligé and the lush curves filling his hands. It was better than every fantasy he had ever had. 

After a little while he discovered that it did not hurt to move his hands in a certain way, and he tested the waters carefully. After a bit of experimenting, he managed to leave his thumbs resting over her nipples while his other fingers caressed the underside of her breasts. Sansa mewled in response, and rubbed herself more eagerly against his erection. Her movements somehow managed to hit just the right spot, and he thrust up involuntarily.

Someone made an obnoxious sort of grunting noise, and Stannis was afraid it was him.

He was realising that she’d make him come in his pants like a fourteen year old if she kept this up, and he tightened his hold on her perfect breasts at the thought. She moaned.

It was tempting to salvage his dignity and ask her to stop, but it was obvious that she was getting off on this. He wanted to be able to see her face as she came. He wanted to hear her properly.

“Oh, gods… Stannis…”

He thrust up again without meaning to. It was always incredibly arousing to hear her say his name like that.

She looked at him with lust-darkened eyes and placed her hands over his, guiding him gently so that his thumbs rubbed over her nipples repeatedly. Was he imagining it, or was her cunt getting hotter?

Or maybe the room was just getting hotter? He was sweating.

“Is this okay?” she asked, biting her lip. She was still guiding his hands.

“Let me see,” he blurted out. It wasn’t the ‘yes’ he had been trying to say. _Strange._

She blushed and slowed the movement of her hips for a moment, considering his rudely phrased request.

“Please,” he said, wanting to prove that he did have some manners.

She swallowed and moved his hands away. Her breasts rose and fell as she took a deep breath. She pushed the straps of the negligé from her shoulders, exposing a wealth of naked flesh to his hungry eyes.

His hips jerked and his cock pulsed. _Gods._ He had been wrong. What he had pictured had not come close. His imagination had not done her justice.

Round and perky and porcelain white… pink, stiff little nipples. His hands were grabbing at them before he could think. Her skin was even softer than the silk that had been depriving him of the most magnificent view in the world. He wished he could squeeze, but his hands were still healing and he needed to be careful.

“Do you like them?” she asked, drawing his gaze to her face. She looked nervous.

“Very much,” he said, thrusting up in an attempt to get her to start moving again. This was not the time to have a conversation.

She blushed more deeply and obliged him, grinding against him with renewed vigour.

Watching her use his cock to get herself off was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen in his life, and with the added stimulation of being able to see and touch her breasts, he was approaching his own climax faster than he was entirely proud of.

When Sansa closed her eyes and started crying out in a very familiar high-pitched way, Stannis resisted the urge to close his own eyes and give himself over to his own pleasure. He wanted to watch her, he wanted to see _everything._

He managed to last through it all, enraptured by Sansa’s flushed, disheveled beauty, her parted lips, and her bliss, but when she relaxed and leant forward, placing her breasts closer to this face, he couldn’t stop himself from taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

She gasped. “ _Stannis…_ ”

The taste of her, and the sound of his name was the last straw. He made a mess of himself, grunting against Sansa’s breast, his face heating up to an uncomfortable extent.

“Was that… ?” Sansa trailed off, sounding uncertain.

“Yes,” he admitted, face still burning.

Sansa made a pleased little noise. “Well, we’ll have to get you clean later. I can’t move.”

Somehow the pleasure in her voice made him feel less embarrassed.

They remained still for a good long while, but eventually they couldn’t put a trip to the en suite off any longer. There was a mess to clean up. The fact that he still needed help to move across a room bothered him remarkably little when the help came from a nearly completely naked Sansa. All she was wearing were tiny lace panties.

She was all long limbs and creamy skin, fiery hair and lush curves. He couldn't stop admiring the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the endless expanse of smooth, naked beauty. He could have stared at her forever, enjoying the fact that she was _Sansa_ and that she was _letting him look._

For some reason it took him a while to get clean. It was almost as if he were being distracted by the most erotic visual imaginable.

Unfortunately, Sansa covered herself up with that infernal negligé when they returned to the bedroom, but before he could figure out a way to protest this injustice, she had lured him back to bed and wrapped herself around him in a way that made him forget what he had wanted to say.

Stannis had felt sexual satisfaction before, but here and now, with Sansa in his arms and his blood humming with contentment, he was certain he had never felt such peace.


	12. Farewell

Stannis’ physical therapist came highly recommended. His name was Gendry, and he was young, handsome and quite well muscled.

He also seemed strangely familiar to Sansa, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

It was difficult to wait around uselessly while Stannis had his session with Gendry, but she busied herself with a book and tried not to let herself get distracted with thoughts of the previous night.

She hadn’t meant for things to progress quite as far as they had, but it had all just sort of happened. Seeing Stannis in that suit had just… fried a few circuits in her brain. And now she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hands had felt on her exposed breasts, or how it would feel to be completely naked with him… to let him inside and feel every inch of him fill her. Rubbing up against him had been good, but she was certain that it would be much better to do it all _properly._

Why did they have to wait, again?

Sansa sighed, uncrossed and recrossed her legs, and looked at the nearest clock. Almost time for Stannis’ session with Gendry to end.

She managed to read half a chapter of her book - though she didn’t remember much of what she read - before the door to the second floor drawing room opened. Stannis had ordered all the equipment Gendry would need and had it set up there, turning the room into more of an exercise chamber than anything else.

Gendry pushed Stannis out in his wheelchair, and Sansa could tell that Stannis was exhausted and in pain. He looked pale and tense, though his face relaxed noticeably when he saw her.

“You’ll want to give him his pain meds soon,” Gendry told her, stepping away from the chair. “First session is always hard.”

Sansa nodded. _It’s the eyes,_ she thought a little absently. Gendry’s eyes were incredibly familiar. “I’ll show you out,” she said, looking over at Stannis.

He was frowning.

“I can find my own way,” Gendry said. “Down the stairs and to the left, right?”

Sansa nodded again, but shot Stannis an uncertain look. It didn’t seem quite right not to show Gendry out.

“Let him go,” Stannis muttered, his frown turning into more of a scowl.

Gendry went without another word.

“That wasn’t very polite,” Sansa said as soon as Gendry’s footsteps had faded away. 

Stannis just grunted, still scowling. His eyes were colder than they were supposed to be.

Sansa tried not to let it get to her. Stannis was probably in a lot of pain. “I can get your pain medication,” she offered.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just a little tired,” Stannis said, a stubborn look on his face.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed, then.”

Stannis scowled yet more deeply. “I don’t want to go to bed.”

He hadn’t acted like this since the day of her date with Joffrey. _What’s his problem?_

Sansa took a deep breath, crossed her arms, and fixed Stannis with her most Catelyn-like look. “Could you please tell me what’s bothering you right now?”

The scowl wavered for a moment and Stannis shifted in his chair, avoiding her eyes. “Nothing’s bothering me. Why should anything be bothering me?”

Suddenly the puzzle pieces slid into place inside her head. _Gods, I’m slow._ “Stannis? Are you jealous?” she asked, careful not to sound derisive or mocking. Instead she kept her voice carefully neutral.

The stricken look on his face confirmed it. “No.” 

It was the most unconvincing denial Sansa had ever heard in her entire life. And she had heard some fairly unconvincing ones from her siblings.

“Good,” she said, shooting him a smile. Her stomach was doing weird swoops and her heart felt absurdly light. If Stannis was jealous it meant he _really_ liked her. She didn’t want him to stay jealous, though. It made him so _grumpy._ “Because you have nothing to be jealous about. Seeing you in that suit last night has ruined me for men who don’t wear them.”

Stannis coughed a little like he’d just swallowed water the wrong way.

Her smiled widened to a grin. “I mean it,” she said, sighing dramatically. “If we don’t work out I’ll have to start going to parties with the business majors and the law students. It will be horrible. Do you know how obnoxious they can be?”

“That’s not amusing,” Stannis said, still scowling a little. His eyes had warmed up, however, so Sansa was sure she was on the right track.

“I know it isn’t,” Sansa said, blinking innocently at him, “I’m the one whose life has been ruined, here.”

Stannis’ lips twitched. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Of course I am,” Sansa said, speaking more seriously. “But really, you don’t have to worry. I’m - I’m not going to lose interest in you anytime soon.”

Stannis looked down at his lap, but Sansa still saw him swallow and clench his jaw.

“I mean it,” she said, trying to inject as much sincerity into her tone of voice as she possibly could. “Just because I’m going home in a few days and then to school… I won’t forget the way I feel about you.”

He looked up, searching her face intently. His face was tense - almost if he were trying to keep it blank - but even though his eyes were guarded, she could see the glimmer of hope that he was obviously trying to hide.

“I hope you won’t forget, either,” she said quietly, suddenly feeling nervous and a little insecure. He’d be going back to work, after all. He’d be surrounded by grown up, professional women that probably had a lot more in common with him, were more experienced than her, and a had a lot more to offer.

“Of course not,” he said at once, his voice and expression completely indignant. “Don’t be absurd.”

Sansa suppressed the urge to laugh as relief coursed through her.

“Well, that’s settled then,” she said, biting her lip and shooting him a smile.

They looked at each other for a charged moment, and Stannis made himself likely to stand up from his chair, his eyes darting to her lips. He winced as soon as he tried it, however, and Sansa’s smile fell away from her face.

“Are you sure you don’t want your medicine?” she asked.

“ _Yes._ I’m sure.”

Recognising that he was in a stubborn mood, Sansa decided not to press the issue. “Okay, then. You said you don’t want to go to bed. What _do_ you want to do?”

He shot her a look that made her heart stutter, and for a second she hoped he’d suggest they go to the en suite and… wash.

“I want to go to the TV lounge,” he muttered after a while, still looking at her with a heat in his eyes.

“TV lounge it is,” she said, embarrassingly breathless.

Thankfully, the walk to the TV lounge helped calm her down. Her heart was no longer racing by the time they reached their destination.

“Do you want to watch something?” Sansa asked once Stannis had settled himself on the sofa.

Stannis considered the question for a moment. “Would you join me?” he asked.

“Of course.” She smiled. “Unless you want to watch something very dull.”

He was quick to answer. “You can choose.”

As a joke, she chose a film she was fairly sure no man, and certainly not a man like Stannis, would ever agree to watch with her. It was too pink, too girly, and too silly. She fully expected Stannis to protest, and she was willing to find something else, but he didn’t say a word as the bubblegum pop song that the film opened with started playing. 

She glanced at him frequently, waiting for him to crack. Waiting for him to beg for mercy. It didn’t happen. He simply watched the screen with a slightly furrowed brow -- as if concentrating. As the minutes rolled by Sansa stopped watching Stannis and started focusing on the film, telling herself that if he was somehow able to tolerate the film for her sake, she should at least watch it.

Sansa’s heart melted a little when he huffed out a sound of amusement at the bit where Elle Woods used her fashion savvy to get a sales assistant to contradict herself, and escaped the fate of being tricked into buying a discount dress for full price.

“The blonde’s smart,” he said, when he noticed her staring at him in thrilled amazement.

They continued to watch the film in silence, and soon Sansa was cuddled up to Stannis in the most wonderful way. She felt almost like they had been together forever, and that all was right with the world.

“This reminds me of school,” Stannis said in a low voice, his eyes not moving from the screen as a female teacher asked a student to stake his life on the answer he had just given her.

Sansa paused the film. “You went to law school?”

“Yes, but I’ve never worked as an attorney.”

Sansa nodded, recalling that Stannis had told her that he had been an executive his whole career.

“Did you like studying the law, though?”

“Yes,” Stannis said after a moment’s consideration. “Shall we watch the rest?”

Sansa wanted to ask Stannis more questions about his time in law school, but decided that it could wait.

They watched and cuddled, and Sansa continued to enjoy the way Stannis held her. There was not even a little tension in his shoulders, and there was a peaceful, content energy about him. In fact, he seemed completely relaxed up until Elle was conned into dressing up in a costume for a party that wasn’t actually a costume party. She went as a Playboy bunny, and Stannis stiffened and cleared this throat when she appeared on the screen in all her sexy glory.

Feeling a little wicked, Sansa let the hand that had been resting on his abdomen trail lower. He wasn’t hard, but she could feel him grow firmer at her touch.

“Oh, do you like costumes?” she whispered, trying to sound serious. “Should I get one?”

“What? No,” Stannis said, shifting a little in his seat. His cock continued to harden.

“Are you sure?” she asked innocently, squeezing him gently through his trousers. “Not even a sexy nurse one?”

“I’d advise you to desist if you want to watch the rest of the film,” Stannis said primly.

“What will happen if I don’t ‘desist’?” Sansa asked, her heart beating much too fast.

Instead of answering her with words, Stannis kissed her.

They made out for a while, ignoring the montage that was playing on the television screen. Sansa didn’t mind.

When Stannis started to lick a certain spot on her neck, she started to laugh. “That tickles!”

He pulled away and paused the film. “Shall we keep watching or should we move this somewhere else?”

Sansa felt torn. On the one hand, she wanted to keep fooling around, and the wet ache between her thighs was definitely encouraging her to seek more action, but on the other… it was quite nice to cuddle and watch a film. Like a proper couple.

“Let’s keep watching,” she said, taking her hand off Stannis’ groin.

“In that case, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” Stannis said, getting to his feet.

Sansa was about to ask why, but Stannis headed her off at the pass.

“Bathroom.”

“Need any help?” Sansa offered, blushing and wondering whether he really needed to _go_ , or whether he just needed to go calm down.

“I can manage with the chair. It’s not far.”

She nodded and watched as Stannis transferred himself to the wheelchair. He moved slowly from the lounge, using his good leg and his hands to propel himself. It was tempting to get up and help him despite what he’d said, but she knew he wouldn’t like it. He had his pride.

Once he was out of the room, Sansa took a deep breath and pushed her hair away from her neck. She felt a little bit too hot for comfort. Stannis had done her a favour by leaving for a minute, really. She could do with a bit of calming down.

***

Stannis glared down at his cock. It was nearly impossible to use the toilet with an erection, and his arousal was not in the mood to go away, it seemed.

His leg throbbed with pain - even though the first thing Stannis had done upon his arrival in the bathroom was take his medicine - and Stannis gave up on standing. He zipped up his trousers, closed the bowl, and sat down. He still needed to relieve his bladder, but first he needed to wait for the erection to go away.

Hearing Sansa say that he had ruined her for other men, and that her feelings for him wouldn’t change even though she would be leaving in a few days, had been a mixed blessing. On one hand, the uncomfortable surge of… something - _not_ jealousy - he had felt when he had seen Sansa look unnecessarily closely at Gendry had been summarily dismissed, but on the other... 

On the other hand he _really_ wanted to take her to bed. Properly. An appalling part of him was chomping at the bit to ruin her for other men in more than one way. He had nothing to be ashamed of down below, after all, and he was highly motivated to leave a lasting impression. If he tried, he was sure he could convince her that no one else would ever be able to satisfy her.

Heat crept to his cheeks and he closed his eyes. _Stop it._

He knew perfectly well that if he took Sansa to bed in his current condition he’d just end up hurting himself. … And leaving entirely the wrong sort of lasting impression.

The minutes ticked by, and Stannis tried to keep his mind blank. Eventually the bulge in his trousers became less noticeable, the pressure of his arousal fading.

Somehow this led to an influx of thoughts about how often he had been forced to wait for erections to go away since Sansa had entered his life, and all the reasons _why._ Her beauty, her wit, her kindness, her gentle hands, that white dress of hers…

 _Fuck._ It was back.

Stannis had thought this was behind him. He had thought these persistent erections were in the past now that he and Sansa were in a physical relationship. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had an orgasm recently. His body was just being absurd.

Absurd or not, he’d be in here for a long time if he didn’t do something about this. At least now he _could._ Recalling the indignity of having been brought to the point of trying to masturbate with the tips of his fingers, Stannis sighed and undid his fly again.

It felt good to be able to grasp his cock properly, although he couldn’t make his grip very tight. He used the pad of his thumb to rub the head, teasing a drop of precome out, and then spreading it around. He closed his eyes. He imagined he was still in the TV lounge, still kissing Sansa. He imagined it was her hand touching him, though he knew how very different her touch was. He imagined he was back to full health, able to pick Sansa up and take her up against the wall… bend her over the back of the sofa... fuck her on the floor…

His hand sped up as he visualised the different scenarios, and a small grunt of pleasure escaped him. It had never quite felt this good to touch himself before, but then, absence was said to make the heart grow fonder. He would never have guessed before the accident how much he would miss being able to get himself off.

Stannis let his memories come to the forefront of his mind now that he was getting closer, and focused on the mental pictures he had of Sansa’s breasts, and her expression as she climaxed on top of him. How would it feel to have her come as he was buried deep inside of her? Would she clench up around him like a vice, or would her inner muscles flutter and caress him? He knew how wet she could get and how soft she was… he had explored her with his tongue and his fingers… but how much better would it feel to have his cock inside of that hot little cunt?

His balls tightened up.

_Fuck._

He came with as little noise as he could possibly make, but his laboured breathing sounded as loud as a shout in the quiet bathroom.

Stannis looked down at himself with bleary eyes, and realised he should probably have stood up and aimed into the toilet, or at least lifted his shirt out of the way. Now he’d need a new one.

Once he’d taken care of the need that had originally driven him to the bathroom, he took his soiled shirt off and tried to rinse most of the mess he’d made out of it. He threw it in the conveniently located hamper and set out to find the nearest clean shirt.

By the time he returned to Sansa, he had probably been gone for nearly twenty minutes. He gave her an apologetic look, and hoped she wouldn’t comment.

“Popcorn?” Sansa asked, offering him the bowl she’d clearly had time to make during his absence. 

“What’s on it?” he asked, peering at the bowl as he finished moving from his wheelchair to the sofa.

“Just a bit of butter and salt.”

He took a few kernels and chewed. _A_ bit _of butter?_ “It’s good,” he said, reaching for more of the drenched popcorn.

Sansa beamed at him and started the film back up.

Just as Stannis was starting to get absorbed in the events on the screen, thinking he had managed to avoid any awkward questions, Sansa said something that made his cheeks warm up.

“Did you change your shirt?”

He cleared his throat. “Just watch the film.”

Sansa giggled.

***

Sansa was packed and ostensibly ready to catch the ferry, but catching the ferry was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn’t want to go back to Winterfell, and she wished she didn’t have to go back to University, either. She wanted to stay on Dragonstone with Stannis.

The last few days had been heaven. She had been able to spend so much time with Stannis, and they had been getting to know each other more and more each day. Mostly they had talked, but she had also learnt which parts of his neck he _really_ liked nibbled, and figured out that he had exactly one ticklish spot on his entire body. (The back of his left knee.) In his turn, he had discovered that she became a helpless mess of a person if his raked his short fingernails across the small of her back, and he had wielded the knowledge ruthlessly.

They hadn’t gone any further than they had the first night he had been out of his casts, and Sansa wasn’t sure whether they had made the right choice when they had decided to wait to have sex. (Sansa was aware that oral sex counted as sex, but somehow it didn’t seem quite the same to her.) It would probably be _weeks_ until she saw Stannis again, and judging by how addicted she already was to his lips, his tongue and his hands, it would be difficult to survive the separation. Sansa wondered whether being apart would be easier or harder because they hadn’t... ‘gone all the way’. Right now she was leaning towards harder.

“The cab should be here soon,” Stannis said, checking his watch. “Are you ready?”

“I guess,” Sansa sighed, unable to keep from pouting.

“I should be fit to travel in about three weeks,” Stannis said, shifting from his good leg to the healing one and then back.

“Only if you do everything Gendry tells you to do,” Sansa reminded him, her voice becoming a little stern. 

Stannis had done nothing but grumble about his physical therapy for the past few days. The exercises were ‘stupid and pointless’, ‘too simple’, or ‘too impossible’. Stannis just wanted to go back to his usual exercise regime, and he hated the fact that his healing limbs wouldn’t allow for that.

“I’ll do everything the tyrant wants. I promise.”

“Gendry is not a tyrant.”

“You don’t know what he’s like when you’re not around.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and suppressed a smile. “It would be really nice to see you in three weeks,” she said, trying to put the conversation back on track.

“I won’t be able to stay for more than one or two nights,” Stannis said, frowning down at his feet. “I’ve been away from work for too long.”

“The Vale isn’t too far away, though,” Sansa pointed out. “You won’t lose a lot of time travelling. We’ll be able to spend almost two whole days together if you visit over a weekend.”

Stannis nodded.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Sansa took a step closer to Stannis, thoughts of kisses filling her mind. They both flinched when a car horn blared outside the door.

“Cab’s here,” Stannis muttered. He was looking at her lips with longing.

Sansa wound her arms around his neck, pressing the full length of her body against his. He felt hard and warm and wonderful. Their lips met in a kiss that felt different from all the other kisses they had shared. It was a sad kiss, and a hopeful one, full of a strange sort of nostalgia, and the promise of good things to come. Sansa’s heart beat so hard in her chest that it almost felt painful.

“I’ll call you once I’m in Winterfell,” she promised, her lips close to his ear.

“And you’ll let me know when you leave for the Vale?” Stannis murmured in return.

“Of course. I’ll call every day.”

“I’m perfectly capable of calling you, too.”

Sansa shook her head and laughed. “We can take turns.”

He claimed her lips once more, and this time he was much hungrier. He kissed her with more force than she was used to, biting her lower lip and thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth, changing the angle of the kiss and causing their teeth to click together… in the end he sucked on her lips in a way that Sansa was sure would leave them swollen and red for a good long while.

It was difficult to unglue herself from him after that. All she wanted to do was drag him to bed.

But the cab was waiting. The ferry would leave soon.

“Good-bye,” she said, taking a reluctant step back. “I’ll miss you.”

His eyes were dark with lust and something like sadness. “Three weeks,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. He reached to tuck a lock of hair behind one of her ears.

“Three weeks,” she echoed, shooting him a shy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were watching [Legally Blonde](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legally_Blonde) in case that wasn't clear.


	13. Long Distance

“Darling!”

Sansa smiled and turned to look behind her. Her mother was waving at her and beaming. Her father was standing at her side, a solemn look on his face. His eyes looked soft, however.

Sansa threw her arms around her mother’s neck as soon as she reached her, hugging her tightly. Her mother might be a bit old-fashioned, but Sansa loved her fiercely. They had been very close when Sansa had been younger, but lately that had changed. Sansa resolved to do better as she inhaled the familiar scent of her mother’s favourite perfume.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Sansa’s mother said as they each took a step back. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Mum.”

She gave her father an uncertain look. He opened his arms and gave her one if his rare hugs. Her heart felt several sizes bigger than usual when he patted her gently on the back.

“You didn’t both have to come pick me up,” Sansa said, flushed with happiness.

Her father took her bags and started to lead the way to the car park. 

“We wanted to,” her mother said, linking arms with her. “We’ve both missed you so much.”

They chatted about the journey as they walked to the car and while Sansa’s father loaded the car with her bags. Once Sansa was strapped into her seat and the car was moving, her mother’s tone changed noticeably.

“So… your father told me that you and Stannis Baratheon are dating?”

Sansa took a deep breath. She had known this was coming. “Yeah, it’s all very new, but yes. We really like each other.”

“Are you sure?” her mother asked, her tone concerned. Sansa was in the backseat, so she couldn’t see the look on her mother’s face. She could only see her father’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He seemed to be watching the road.

“Yes, of course,” Sansa said, feeling a little surprised. She had expected her mother to ask whether she and Stannis had set a date for the wedding yet.

“But darling, I thought you liked Joffrey?”

“I - I did,” Sansa stammered, uncomfortable memories assaulting her. “But he’s not as nice as I thought he was.”

“You think Stannis is nicer?” Her mother sounded sceptical.

“Yes,” Sansa said firmly. She noticed her father glance at her in the mirror, his brow a little furrowed.

“At first he was a bit… harsh, but once I got to know him -”

“Harsh is an understatement from what I’ve heard of him,” her mother said, interrupting Sansa.

“Yes, but once I got to know him I found that he’s a good man,” Sansa said, her voice rising slightly. “And he likes me for who I am and treats me well. He - he makes me laugh, Mum. And he... “ Sansa tried to find the words to explain how wonderful Stannis was in a way that her mother might understand. “... he lets me pick the films we watch, and doesn’t mind when they’re not something he would have picked. He gives them a fair chance and sometimes he even likes them.”

Her mother turned in her seat and looked at Sansa. Her eyebrows had risen as high as they would go.

“Are we definitely talking about Stannis Baratheon?”

Sansa blew out an exasperated breath. “Yes, Mum.”

There was a moment of silence while her mother considered this. Sansa watched as she lowered her eyebrows and frowned, clearly thinking Sansa’s words over.

“He’s not a man that judges a book by its cover,” her father said, breaking the silence. “Perhaps you might take a leaf from his book and give him a fair chance, Cat.”

Sansa wished she could hug her father again.

Her mother turned to face the right way again. “Of course I’ll give him a chance, Ned,” she huffed, “I just wanted to make sure Sansa was certain about this. A good family name and a fortune are wonderful things, but a marriage doesn’t last unless there is some _substance_ -”

“Mum!” Sansa yelped. “We are dating. We’re not engaged.”

“I know, darling, but you’ll want to keep him close if he’s as wonderful as you say, and work on getting him to propose. You’re not getting any younger, and soon you’ll have finished University. I got engaged while I was still attending school, and I never regretted it.”

“I’m twenty-one,” Sansa said, feeling indignant, “I’m hardly an old maid.”

“Well, _he_ certainly isn’t getting any younger,” her mother said blithely. “Don’t you want him to have hair in your wedding pictures?”

“Mum…” Sansa groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

***

“Arya, _don’t,_ ” Sansa said, glaring at her sister.

“It’s just a dress, what’s the big deal?”

“It’s _my_ dress, I didn’t say you could borrow it, and you’ll just spill something on it and ruin it like you _always_ ruin everything,” Sansa said, feeling fourteen years old again and hating it. If Arya had decided to borrow any other dress Sansa would probably just have smiled and let her, but it was the white dress. Stannis’ favourite. “You don’t even like wearing dresses!” Sansa added in a fit of pique, narrowly resisting the temptation to stomp a foot.

“Ow, my ears,” Robb said emerging from the basement with Jon and Theon on his heels. They all looked rumpled and squinty. “It’s Sunday morning, Sansa. Give us a break, will you?”

“It’s probably nice and quiet at the apartment where you actually _live,_ ” Sansa said, not bothering to lower her voice. The three of them winced at the noise.

“Cheaper to crash here,” Robb said, walking over to the fridge, finding a carton of milk and sniffing it. “Would’ve had to spring for a taxi to get back to ours. This was walking distance.” He took a swig directly from the carton.

“Gross,” Sansa said, wrinkling her nose.

“Anyway, I’m going to the beach, so…” Arya said, already halfway out of the kitchen.

“ _Jon,_ ” Sansa whined, shooting Jon a plaintive look.

Jon and Arya had always had a very good relationship growing up, and in many ways they were more like brother and sister than cousins, but Sansa had worked out fairly early that Jon also had a soft spot for _her_. At least he was always more susceptible to the puppy eyes than Robb.

“Kid, give Sansa her dress back,” Jon said, reaching out to ruffle Arya’s hair affectionately.

“Why?” Arya said, shooting Sansa’s a dirty look. “I don’t have any stupid beach dresses and Sansa has like a million.”

“I’ll lend you a beach dress,” Sansa said at once, “just not that one. Sta- I really like it and I don’t want you wrecking it.”

Theon, who had taken a seat at the kitchen table and had been using his folded arms as a pillow, looked up at that. “Oh, does _Stannis_ like it?” he sing-songed with a grin, his hangover miraculously cured.

“Shut up,” Sansa snapped at him.

Robb and Theon grinned at each other.

“Leave her alone,” Jon said with a put-upon sigh. “Kid, you heard your sister. Borrow a different dress.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “ _Fine._ ” She stomped off up the stairs. Hopefully she wouldn’t leave the dress in a wrinkled heap on the floor. _Who am I kidding? Of course she will._

“Thanks Jon,” Sansa said, shooting her cousin a smile.

Jon went a little pink and started rifling through the cupboards for something to eat.

“Where are Mum and Dad?” Robb asked, shaking the carton of milk. A few drops sloshed around, but it was obviously almost empty. He looked at it for a moment, shrugged, and put it back in the fridge.

“It’s Sunday, Robb,” Sansa said in exasperation as she opened the fridge again, took out the violated carton of milk and carried it to the sink to rinse it out. “Mum took Bran and Rickon to the sept.”

“Oh, yeah.” Robb scratched the stubble on his face. “And Dad?”

“Dad’s at work, I think. I haven’t seen him.” Sansa had barely seen her father at all since the train station. He was around for family meals, of course, and he was usually always at home during the evenings, but he hadn’t had much time for her.

“At work?” Robb groaned. “I was hoping he wouldn’t go in until Monday. There’s a report I still need to finish…”

“Did you tell him you had already finished it?” Sansa asked as she flattened the carton. It would need to be taken to the paper recycling bin, and Sansa fully intended to make Robb do it.

“... Maybe.”

Theon sniggered. Jon seemed to be trying to make himself invisible behind a box of cereal.

“Hey, how come you were wearing beach dresses around Stannis?” Robb asked in a dirty and transparent attempt to change the subject. “Wasn’t he your patient? Or is that how you got his attention?” Robb waggled his eyebrows obscenely.

“We were in King’s Landing,” Sansa said, crossing her arms defensively and feeling her face get hot. “It was like thirty five degrees!”

“Ah, so that _was_ how you got his attention. I knew he was a pervert.”

“He is not!” Sansa said, outraged on Stannis’ behalf. But she wasn’t just feeling outraged. Her heart ached with a strong sense of loss as she remembered the way Stannis tended to look at her when she wore something special for him, and she wished he was with her now -- looking at her just like that.

Sansa threw the wet carton at Robb. It hit him in the face.

“Hey!”

“Take it out to the recycling bin, you ass.”

Theon and Jon both started to laugh.

Sansa turned on her heel and left the kitchen with her nose in the air. She’d had enough of her siblings for the time being. Maybe Jeyne would be free to go into town today. _She_ would never call Stannis a pervert.

***

It was good to stay in Winterfell for a few days: see Jeyne, catch up with her siblings and Jon, dodge her mother’s relentless questions about stuff like whether Stannis seemed likely to want a location wedding, and spend too much time trying to decide which things to pack for her last year at University. But even though she was constantly surrounded by people in her parents’ crowded house, she couldn’t escape the twinges of loneliness that - ironically enough - refused to leave her alone.

She missed Stannis. She missed their routine, the conversations… the silences. She missed the way he touched her and kissed her, and most of all she missed the way he looked at her.

Calling him every day was not enough.

“My back hurts,” she complained, rubbing the small of her back and holding her phone to her ear. “Packing doesn’t agree with me. I think I need to get a lady’s maid like they have on Downton Abbey.” She was sitting on her bed, unable to lie down properly because there was pile of clean, folded laundry next to her that she hadn’t decided whether to pack or put away.

“You should be finished by now,” Stannis said, his tone serious. “It’s almost midnight and you’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not done, but yes, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes when she heard him make a disapproving sound.

“You should finish packing, then,” he said, his voice strict. For some reason the sound of it made her heart beat a little faster.

“Well, I _had_ finished,” Sansa explained, “I packed everything using my system, but then I thought of a _better_ system, and I had to start over from scratch.” She eyed the pile of laundry. None of it fit the new system.

_Maybe if I think of a new, new system…_

“Sansa,” Stannis said, speaking in a tone that captured all of her attention at once, “finish packing and call me back within ten minutes.”

Sansa heart jumped. “Or what?”

Stannis made an impatient noise. “Or we won’t be able to have a proper conversation tonight.”

She laughed. _Of course that’s what he meant,_ she thought, her heartbeat slowing slightly. There was a strange twinge of disappointment nagging at her however, and she wasn’t sure why.

The call ended, and Sansa hurriedly finished packing, cringing a little at the haphazard way she ended up being forced to divide the pile of laundry between her luggage and her closet. She did feel more relaxed once she had finished, though.

“All packed?” Stannis asked as soon as her call to him connected.

“Yes.”

“Good.” There was a short pause. “Are you looking forward to going back to the Vale?”

“I am,” Sansa said with a smile. “I’ve signed up for some really interesting classes!”

They talked about her classes and her plans for the semester for a bit, and Sansa ended up telling Stannis a bit more than she had intended to tell him about Professor Baelish. 

She hadn’t been sure whether she had been pleased or disappointed when she had realised Professor Petyr Baelish would be teaching one of her classes again. During her first year he had held her back after class a few times, wanting to chat about her mother. Apparently they had studied at Riverrun University together. He had never done anything inappropriate, but Sansa didn’t like the way his gaze tended to linger on her as he lectured, or the way he smiled with just his mouth and not his eyes. On the other hand, he was the professor who had given her the best grades of her academic career. She had a good grade point average, but this was her last year, and thus her last chance to improve it. If Professor Baelish was as generous as before, she might be able to bring her average up by a few points.

“If he makes you uncomfortable you shouldn’t subject yourself to his classes,” Stannis said, his tone worried.

“He doesn’t make me _that_ uncomfortable,” Sansa said. She had hardly even spared him a thought since her first semester, after all. Seeing his name when she had checked her schedule today had just knocked a few memories loose. “I was such a kid the last time I took one of his classes. I was probably just imagining things.”

“Perhaps,” Stannis said, still sounding worried. “But I think you should trust your instincts.”

Something inside Sansa warmed at his words. She liked how Stannis always listened to her and took her seriously.

“I will,” Sansa promised. “But let’s talk about something more fun, now.”

“Fun?”

“Yes, like how much I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

Stannis huffed out a sceptical sound, but Sansa could tell that he was pleased.

“You’re working hard with Gendry, aren’t you?” she asked, like she had asked every night since she had left Dragonstone.

“Yes, yes. The tyrant is pleased with my progress.”

“I hope you don’t let him hear you call him that,” Sansa scolded. “It’s rude.”

“I’m not used to being bossed around. I’m usually the one in charge.” His voice sounded a little deeper now, and Sansa felt a rush of heat low in her belly.

She bit her lip and squirmed a little where she sat. “Oh?” Her voice sounded oddly breathless.

“You must have noticed.”

She had. It had been hard to miss the way he hated every part of being an invalid. He was a proud man, and when she had been his nurse he had accepted the fact that he needed help with bad grace. She could still remember the conversation they’d had on her first day -- she had actually had to _ask_ him to be polite.

“I like that about you,” she said, managing to sound a little more normal. She hadn’t really liked it at first, but now she definitely did. It felt good when he took charge of her body, telling her to spread her legs for him… using his tongue and his fingers to take full command of her pleasure…

“You do?” He sounded surprised. Surprised and a little pleased. She could picture the way he was probably raising one eyebrow a fraction.

“Yes,” she said, trying to think of a way to explain it without betraying how incredibly much his forceful nature turned her on. “When I was little, my mother always used to heap praise on me. Everything I did was just perfect in her eyes. Dad was different. I never spent very much time with him growing up, and he never really was the type to shower us - the kids, I mean - with compliments. But that’s why it always meant more when he did say something nice, you know?”

“What has that got to do with anything?” Stannis asked, sounding puzzled.

“I was just getting to that,” Sansa said, feeling herself blush. “I like the way you expect things to be done a certain way, and that you don’t accept anything that isn’t to your standards. It makes me feel like it’s that much more of an accomplishment when I do manage to please you.”

Stannis made a thoughtful sound. “I see.”

Sansa remained silent, sensing that he had more to say.

“You - you do know that you are under no obligation to please me,” Stannis said at length, speaking a little hesitantly.

“We’re dating,” Sansa said with a smile. “Wanting to please each other sort of goes along with that, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but…” Stannis made a frustrated sound. “You don’t have to _do_ anything to please me. You please me just the way you are.”

Her heart fluttered. “I - I feel that way, too,” she said. “About you, I mean.”

They shared a comfortable silence, and Sansa knew that if they had been in the same room they would have kissed.

“You should go to sleep,” Stannis said hoarsely.

 _You should be here to tire me out,_ Sansa thought, biting her lip. “Okay.”

Before she fell asleep, Sansa couldn’t help but dwell on the progress they had made. No matter what she felt, she knew it was much too early to talk of love, but Sansa felt that they had skirted exhilaratingly close.

 _And he said it first,_ she thought, smiling to herself as butterflies took flight inside her.

***

Stannis wondered whether Sansa had arrived in the Vale yet. He hadn’t been able to concentrate for the past hour, as his eyes had constantly been drifting to the phone that sat - silent and still - on his desk next to his laptop.

Soon Stannis would be able to start going to the office, and Davos had been sending him briefs and updates for the past few days, helping him get up to speed. He was supposed to be reading one of the memos right now, but the words on his computer screen were refusing to penetrate.

His phone remained stubbornly silent.

Stannis rubbed his face with one hand and shifted in his chair. His fingers ached and his leg complained, but he was feeling much better than last week, and his hands were becoming increasingly useful with each day that went by. Gendry knew what he was about, even though he was a tyrant.

With a sigh, Stannis closed his laptop. He’d read the memo tomorrow.

 _Maybe I should just call her?_ He picked up his phone and stared at the black screen.

Feeling rather like a teenager, he unlocked the phone and opened his call history. Sansa’s face was smiling at him next to her name, and for a moment he just stared at the picture, recalling the moment when she had taken it. She had been in such a good mood…

Unable to resist, he made the call.

“Hello? Stannis? I was just about to call you!”

Warmth spread within his chest. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I literally just finished unpacking. I thought you’d want me to get that done before calling you. Was I wrong?”

“No, it was responsible of you to do that first,” Stannis said, standing up and moving to the sofa in the corner of his study, wanting to get comfortable.

“Randa won’t get here until tomorrow, so I’ve been able to organise things just how I want them,” Sansa said, her tone laced with satisfaction.

Stannis knew that ‘Randa’, or Myranda Royce, was Sansa’s roommate in the Vale University student dorms. A vivacious girl, according to Sansa.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asked.

He told her about the memo he had been trying to read. “I’ve given up on it for the time being, though,” he finished.

“So you’re not doing anything right now?” Sansa’s voice had become suspiciously innocent.

“I’m talking to you.”

She giggled, sounding both nervous and a little excited unless he was mistaken. The sound made him wish she was within reach.

“So… do you want to know what I’m wearing right now?”

Stannis was not the most experienced man in the world when it came to sexual exploits, but he was not a simpleton. He knew when phone sex was on the table. 

He looked around unnecessarily. He did not have to check to make sure that he was alone in his study. No one was there. No one would know if he indulged himself.

He swallowed. “Yes,” he said, feeling his heart pounding in his chest and his skin breaking out into a sweat. Was he really going to attempt to do this? At his age? _Fuck._

“I’m wearing a very soft silk nightgown with a lace trim,” Sansa told him, and her voice was suddenly the stuff of naughty fantasies: low and a little breathless.

“Is that so?” he said, doing his best to sound dignified. He pictured the infernal negligé she had worn for him the night after he got his casts off, and it did nothing to help him calm down.

“Mmhm, I’m lying in bed and wishing you were here with me,” she told him in her bedroom voice.

It was a rare pleasure to hear her speak like this. After she had first prodded him into talking dirty - back when he’d still been in his casts - it had happened again occasionally. He liked to think that he had improved at it. Sansa was usually a bit more shy about vocalising her thoughts, though he encouraged her whenever she tried it. Her voice was made for it: innocent, sensual, and alluring all at once.

“And why would you wish for that?” he asked, undoing his fly one-handed after a brief moment of deliberation. No one had to know. It might make it more difficult to stay focused on the conversation, but he was fairly certain the this was the done thing when one had phone sex, and he wanted to do this properly.

His cock, already half-hard due to the arousing cadence of Sansa’s voice, responded readily to his touch, and although it would probably feel nicer to have her with him and ask her to touch it, his own hand would do just fine.

“If you were with me you could help me take the nightgown off,” Sansa explained, her voice a little shy now.

“You can’t do it on your own?” he asked, stroking himself slowly.

“Hold on.” There were faint sounds of fabric rustling. “There. Now I’m naked. Do you… do you like that?”

Stannis gripped his cock a little more tightly. He had never seen Sansa completely naked, but he had a very good - _very frequently revisited_ \- mental image of her in nothing but little panties. “I do,” he said, managing to sound remarkably calm given the circumstances. But Stannis was no stranger to controlling himself, and it was easier without her overpowering presence in the room, and without weeks of pent up sexual frustration and forced abstinence working against him. Being able to touch himself really made a world of difference.

“Do you want me to touch myself?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.

He stroked himself firmly, but slowly. “Yes, but don’t give yourself what you need right away. Light touches only.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and Stannis wondered if she was blushing.

“How does it feel? Describe it.”

“I - it feels good. I’m - I’m so wet,” Sansa said, letting out a small moan. “Soft…”

Stannis bit back a groan as his cock twitched with longing, and forced his hand to maintain a slow pace.

“What would you want me to do if I were there?” he asked.

“Kiss me,” she sighed, “I’d want you to kiss me everywhere.”

“I’d like to do that,” he told her, still trying to keep his voice steady. It was getting more difficult.

“I’d like to kiss you, too,” Sansa said, “your neck and your chest and your thighs…”

“And my cock?” he asked, remembering the way Sansa’s lips felt as she kissed him there.

“Definitely,” she agreed.

“And then?”

“And then I’d want you - all of you - deep inside...” There was something so delicate about her words. Something so _innocent._

Stannis closed his eyes and let his hand work more quickly. “Are you still touching yourself the way I told you to?” he rasped.

“Yes.” There was a slight whimper.

“You can do more now, if you wish. But tell me when you’re close. You don’t have permission to come yet.”

Sansa made a sound that made Stannis squeeze his cock a little too hard: a startled, aroused little gasp.

“So,” Stannis said, forcing himself to sound calm. Controlled. “You were saying you’d want me to fuck you?” 

There was copious precome leaking from the tip of his cock, and he spread it around, fingers sliding over the smooth, sensitive skin of the head, hips thrusting up involuntarily at the pleasurable sensation.

“Yeah,” she said with a bit of a whine.

“How?” His voice was getting very rough. He had to stop touching his cock for a moment to cool off. He fondled his balls instead.

“Really hard,” she moaned, “like you meant it.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, voice still rough -- almost a growl.

“Mm, yes, I’m sure.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Stannis fisted his cock again and pumped hard, imagining that he was giving Sansa the sort of pounding she needed. The fleshy sounds he was making now were nothing to the smacks their bodies would make in such a scenario, but they were satisfying nonetheless.

“Tell me what I’m asking for,” Sansa begged, “please.”

“You are asking for a lot of things,” he began, feeling a rush of power. _She wants this._ “And as much as I’d like to fuck you, I think I’d start by kissing you everywhere just the way you said you’d want.” He took a breath and let his voice deepen a little further. “Especially right between your thighs.” Stannis had noticed that Sansa preferred it when he didn’t use words like ‘cunt’.

Sansa moaned, and he heard her breath hitch.

“I’d use my mouth and my tongue on you until you begged for my cock,” he murmured, listening to the soft sounds on the other end of the line and trying to picture her. He wanted to see her getting off on the things he was saying -- see whether she really enjoyed having him in charge like she had claimed when they had spoken last night. “And then I’d fuck you slowly, letting you really feel the way my cock would stretch you open. I’d keep a steady pace when you’d start to squirm and spread your legs more and more, just hoping I’d be tempted to start ramming my cock in as hard as I could, but I wouldn’t go any faster until you started begging again...”

Sansa was mewling now, and getting louder. She sounded very close.

“As soon as you asked very nicely to be fucked _hard_ , I’d oblige you, and I’d take it as a personal insult if you’d be able to walk without your thighs trembling beneath you when I’d finished with you.”

“Stannis, I need to -”

“Ask nicely,” he said through gritted teeth, his hand a blur. He was close, too.

“Please may I come?” Sansa squeaked, sounding embarrassed and turned on and a little desperate.

His balls tightened up, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. He forced himself to do it anyway. “You may. Do it now.”

“Oh, gods, _Stannis!_ ” She was crying out and moaning, and Stannis was sure she had just crossed the finish line. The thought sent a thrill of victory through him that made his own ongoing orgasm all the more intense, and he muttered a curse under his breath as spurts of semen coated his hand.

He got himself under control and waited until her breathing sounded steady again.

 _Did she really just come on command for me?_ He shuddered.

“How do you feel?” he asked, managing to sound less rough than before.

“Sleepy,” Sansa said, “and happy.” He could picture her yawning and smiling, her face flushed with pleasure.

“Go to sleep, then.”

“Okay. Good night, Stannis. Sweet dreams.”

No dream could be sweeter than being awake in a world where Sansa was his, but Stannis didn’t know how to put this into words. He just said good night and ended the call.

He really couldn’t wait to visit her.


	14. Reunion

“Don’t look, but Professor Baelish is staring at you again.”

Sansa and Myranda Royce were sitting on a bench on the campus lawn, eating yogurt and soaking up the afternoon sun.

Sansa resisted the urge to turn around and search for her teacher’s face. Instead she looked at Randa. “He is not,” she said, hoping that Randa was just teasing.

“He _is,_ ” Randa insisted. “He’s looking at you like he wants you to call him daddy, and not in the paternal way.” She waggled her eyebrows.

Sansa uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, feeling her heat rush to her cheeks. “No one actually calls anyone ‘daddy’ in bed, Randa,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s just in porn.”

“Speak for yourself,” Randa said with a laugh. “I’d call Professor Baelish daddy all night long.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it!” Randa exclaimed. “He’s hot in that sleazy Billy Bob Thornton kind of way.”

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t know what it is with you and Billy Bob Thornton.”

“Bad Santa? Love Actually? Seriously, he’s hot.”

“Ten, twenty years ago, maybe.”

Ransa looked all set to argue, but then her eyes widened. “Oh my gods, he’s coming over.”

They both stood up from the bench.

“Good afternoon ladies.”

Sansa examined her Medieval English and Related Literature teacher. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, and his customary Mockingbird pin glinted in the sun. His hair was fashionably styled, his beard was neatly groomed, and he smelled faintly of peppermint.

“Good afternoon, Professor Baelish,” she and Randa said in unison.

“Call me Petyr when we’re not in class,” Professor Baelish said, his voice friendly.

“Sure thing, _Petyr,_ ” Randa purred. 

Sansa forced herself not to roll her eyes. Randa wasn’t even in any of Professor Baelish’s classes.

Professor Baelish looked amused. “Enjoying the good weather?”

“Of course we are,” Ransa said with a wide smile. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts, enhancing her already impressive cleavage further. The professor looked, but it was almost like he was just looking to be polite. Sansa couldn’t explain why she got that impression. It didn’t make any sense. Men didn’t look _politely_ at women’s cleavage.

“Excellent. And how have you been enjoying my lectures, Miss Stark?” Professor Baelish said, fixing her with an unnerving look and moving to stand a little too close. With the bench right behind her, she couldn’t keep her personal space without tripping.

“Very well, sir,” Sansa said, swallowing and trying not to show how unnerved she felt.

“Have you started on your reading? I must say I recommend chapter five. I found it exceptionally diverting and I think you will enjoy it particularly.” He took another step closer. One more little step and they’d be nose to nose.

“I’ve started a little,” Sansa said, her heart beating uncomfortable hard.

“Such a good student,” Professor Baelish murmured, his lips quirking. She couldn’t look away from his eyes.

“That’s Sansa for you,” Randa said cheerfully. “Always has her nose in a book.”

Professor Baelish didn’t precisely seem startled at Randa’s words, but he blinked a little like he was waking up from a nap. He took a step back. “I had better be on my way,” he said, nodding at them both in turn, murmuring a polite word, and walking off.

Sansa sighed quietly with relief as she and Randa sat back down at their bench.

“He definitely wants you,” Randa said, a wicked grin on her lips. “Couldn’t stand close enough to you, could he?”

 _Gods._ It had been so uncomfortable. “What does it matter? You know I’m dating someone,” Sansa said, pushing her cup of yogurt away. She had lost her appetite.

“Oh, yes. Why won’t you tell me more about him? You’re being much too secretive. It’s rude.”

Sansa had been reluctant to part with the details of how she and Stannis had met because she was convinced Randa would tease her mercilessly about it, and she hadn’t been in the mood to deal with it. Robb and Theon had been bad enough.

“Maybe you’ll see him when he comes to visit this weekend.” _Only three more days to go._

“At least tell me if he’s any good in bed.” Randa fixed Sansa with a piercing stare.

Sansa felt herself blush. “We haven’t - you know.”

“Fucked?” Myranda sucked on her last spoonful of yogurt with relish.

Sansa blushed even more and shook her head.

“Well, is he cute? Cuter than Harry?”

Randa had been her roommate ever since first year, and she’d had front row seats when it came to Sansa’s relationship with Harry. Being reminded of him wasn’t Sansa’s favourite thing, but at least it didn’t happen very often. He had graduated, and Sansa had become fairly good at avoiding places that she connected with him.

“I think he’s very striking,” Sansa said, pushing her thoughts of Harry away and thinking about Stannis’ blue eyes and sharp features instead.

“ _Striking?_ ” Randa repeated, furrowing her brow. “How old is he?”

Sansa looked down at her hands. She had never asked Stannis his age, but she had seen his birth year in his medical records. “He’ll be forty-one this year.”

Ransa threw her head back, a peal of laughter escaping her. “So that’s why you’re not into Professor Baelish. You already have a daddy.”

Sansa’s stomach did flips. “He is _not_ my ‘daddy’. And I think my father would be appalled at the way you talk.”

“Fathers never want to think about their daughters’ sex lives,” Randa said with a dismissive hand gesture. “And calling a guy daddy in bed doesn’t mean you want to fuck your father.”

“What does it mean, then?” Sansa asked, blushing, but curious. She had never been able to bring herself to read fanfic that centered around anything to do with the word ‘daddy’, and she had to admit that her knowledge on the subject was consequently minimal.

“It’s usually just a power thing,” Randa said with a shrug. “A lot of guys like it. A lot of girls, too.”

Sansa squirmed a little in her seat. “But it’s… wrong, isn’t it? I mean, it just sounds so porny and -”

“Nothing’s wrong if everyone is consenting and enjoying it,” Randa said easily, smiling one of her dazzling smiles.

“I’m not stupid; I know _that._ But I still think it’s weird to call someone daddy in bed,” Sansa said, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Oh, you’d probably love it,” Randa said, rolling her eyes. “That sort of pillow play can be great for working on those pesky daddy issues, and you have, like, all of them.”

Sansa’s arms and her jaw dropped. “I do _not_ have daddy issues!”

“Yes you do,” Randa laughed. “Seriously, the number of times I’ve heard you talk about how your dad never had much time for you when you were little, and how you’re sure he likes your siblings better… oh, and remember how hard you studied for that course we took in traditional northern literature? That paper you wrote about his favourite book? Don’t think I didn’t notice how crushed you were when he didn’t have time to read it.”

“That’s just... “ Sansa paused, trying to find the right words. “Those aren’t issues.”

“Fine,” Randa sighed, “be in denial. I don’t care. But I’m telling you, getting a guy to fuck you while you call him daddy is cheaper than therapy.”

Thankfully, Sansa was able to steer the conversation towards their homework and dinner plans after that.

That evening, however, when Sansa was lying in bed waiting for Stannis to call since it was his turn, she thought about Randa’s words again.

 _Do I have daddy issues?_ she wondered, biting her lip. It was true that she craved her father’s approval, but all children craved their parents’ approval, didn’t they? It wasn’t an _issue._

Her phone rang, and Sansa managed to put all thoughts of daddy issues aside while she talked to Stannis about mostly innocuous things. Randa was on her laptop with headphones covering her ears, but Sansa didn’t want to take any chances.

Sansa had strange and erotic dreams that night. She forgot nearly everything when she woke up, but a faint memory of herself going down on Stannis lingered, and his graveled voice - aroused and affectionate - calling her _sweetheart._

***

Stannis stepped onto the train station platform, excitement coursing through him almost as if he were a young boy on Christmas morning. It was absurd at his age to feel that way, but no matter how often he told himself to get a hold of himself, his heart just kept leaping and his stomach kept contracting.

Picking Sansa out of the small crowd inside the Vale’s station building was easy. Her red hair caught the sunlight streaming through the windows and called out to him like a beacon.

She gave him a dazzling smile when she saw him, and startled him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him squarely on the mouth. He dropped his bag in surprise, but recovered his wits quickly. Holding her and kissing her after three weeks apart, feeling whole, tall, and proud, was better than he could have imagined.

“You look so healthy!” she exclaimed when they finally broke apart. Her eyes were raking over his form in a gratifyingly eager way, and Stannis couldn’t help but stand up a little straighter.

“Gendry says I’ve been doing well,” he said, feeling that he had earned the right to brag just a bit. “He says that I’ve recovered more quickly than most would have because I was in good shape to begin with.”

“I’d say you’re in _great_ shape,” Sansa said shyly, her eyes trailing down from his face to his torso.

Suddenly it felt a lot warmer inside the station building than before.

Stannis cleared his throat. “I need to go pick up the keys for my rental.”

The rental was comfortable and handled smoothly. Sansa fiddled with the A/C and the radio for a bit, but settled down to watch the scenery soon enough. The Vale wasn’t a large town, but Stannis had decided to book himself a room in an inn that was situated on the picturesque mountainside the town was known for. It wasn’t as high up as the ruins of the Eyrie, but the views were still supposed to be spectacular.

“What was your first week back at work like?” Sansa asked after they had driven in silence for a few minutes.

“Hectic,” Stannis said, grimacing. Robert and Davos had held down the fort fairly well, but there was so much for him to catch up on, and far too many projects that had simply been put on hold until he could deal with them. He didn’t even want to think about the pile of contracts that he still had to review. The good thing about being buried in work, however, was that Robert had been leaving him alone and letting him get on with things.

“Oh.” Sansa bit her lip. Stannis could see it out of the corner of an eye. “Can you afford to be away this weekend?”

“Yes,” Stannis said firmly. The contracts that had been waiting for weeks could certainly wait two more days, and anyway, Gendry insisted that it was important to ‘ease into’ work. Stress was not conducive to healing, apparently. All medical professionals seemed to agree on that.

They were quiet for a little while.

“We’re going straight to the inn?” Sansa asked after Stannis drove past the turn he would have needed to take in order to go to the centre of town.

“I thought I’d get unpacked,” Stannis said, glancing at Sansa’s face out of the corner of one eye. She did not seem displeased. She was blushing faintly.

“What do you want to do after?” Her voice was tentative.

“Lunch?”

She shifted in her seat and bit her lip. “Oh, okay.”

Stannis wondered for a moment whether her reaction meant that she would rather stay at the inn and let him ravish her, but dismissed the thought almost at once as wishful thinking. They had been apart for three weeks. Though they had called each other every night, some time getting reacquainted was expected.

“Something else you’d rather do?” He raised an eyebrow, hoping despite himself that Sansa _did_ want to stay in bed for the rest of the day.

“No, lunch is a great idea!”

_Damn._

Sansa started to list the different restaurants in the area, and when she couldn’t remember any more places, she produced her phone and looked up more establishments to tell him about.

She was still chattering away by the time they reached his suite at the inn.

“... and the lamb is supposed to be good.” Sansa looked up from her phone and glanced at her surroundings. Her eyes lingered on the generously proportioned bed, and a fresh blush rose to her cheeks.

Stannis pretended not to notice, and went about unpacking the few things he had brought. The suite was surprisingly large, and though a lot of the furniture was old-fashioned, the room was equipped with every modern amenity. There was a large flat screen mounted on the wall across from the bed, and another one in the area of the suite that served as a living room, a fully stocked bar, a spacious desk, wifi, A/C, and a bathroom with an enormous glass shower stall. One wall was almost a window from top to bottom, and there was a little table set up beneath it. Stannis imagined it would serve as an intimate dining area that would allow one to eat and enjoy the view of the valley and the town.

“This room is really nice,” she said after a while, walking over to the enormous window. “And the view is amazing. I can see my school from here. It looks tiny!”

The window faced a direction that would allow Stannis to look out, but would not allow any curious outsiders a glimpse what lay within. He was very pleased with this, since he valued his privacy. Though he supposed the blinds could always be drawn. There was a button for that, if he was not mistaken.

He dropped his phone charger on the nightstand and went to stand beside her. “Which building is it?”

“That really white one,” she said, pointing. She looked up at him, her eyes hooded.

He wasn’t looking out the window. “Oh, I see,” he murmured.

They stared at each other.

Stannis wasn’t sure which one of them initiated the kiss, but suddenly their lips had met, and they were kissing as if they’d drown if they stopped for even a second. Sansa’s arms wound around his neck, his hands went to her hips, and he let himself devour her mouth with the sort of fervour and impatience he could never have permitted himself at the train station. Sansa moaned and melted against him, pressing herself close and letting him feel the full length of her body. He moved his hands and wrapped his arms tightly around her, fixing her in place, enjoying the way the heat of their bodies mingled.

“I missed you,” Sansa sighed, able to speak now that he had started to place open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck.

He didn’t answer her. He was busy.

At the train station, Stannis had barely noticed what Sansa was wearing. He’d been too occupied with her hair and her smile and her lips. Now he noticed that she had worn a very convenient, pretty sort of dress. All he needed to do was unzip, and she’d - hopefully - be practically naked. He fiddled with the tab of the zipper, wondering if she’d protest if he pulled it down.

“Please,” Sansa moaned, arching her back.

He decided that she was definitely asking him to unzip her.

He glanced at her face as he began to undress her, searching for signs of discomfort. She bit her lip, but she also angled her body to give him better access. He kept unzipping until the dress gaped open.

“Bed?” Sansa asked, looking at him from beneath lowered lashes.

He nodded. “Take the dress off. Take everything off.” 

The orders rolled of his tongue before he had a chance to think things through, and Stannis froze, wondering if Sansa would take his words the wrong way. 

Her eyes were very big, and her cheeks were flushed, but she did not seem upset.

 _And why should she be?_ She _had_ indicated that he’d be allowed to order her around once he was healthy. The memory of Sansa’s voice was crystal clear in his mind. _“And you can do whatever you like once you’re back to full health…”_ She had also told him on the phone not so long ago that she liked it when he took charge.

He swallowed. “ _Now._ ”

Her lips parted, and she lowered her lashes in a way that would almost have seemed demure if her hands hadn’t been busily stripping her dress off. Her shoes went next. All she was wearing now was a matching set of black lingerie. It was simple enough, but there was enough lace to make it tantalising. Her legs were bare.

“Keep going,” he said, his blood pulsing through his veins, rushing to his groin and pooling there, the heat and the pressure of it almost unbearable.

Her hands trembled a little as she unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor, and Stannis inhaled sharply when her breasts came into view: exposed and _perfect._ It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but it had been _three weeks._ There were details his mind’s eye couldn’t quite cling to.

Sansa bit her lip as she hooked her fingers into the lace of her panties, tugging them a little ways down. She gave him an uncertain look.

“Off,” he rasped, feeling lightheaded with arousal.

The panties dropped to the floor after Sansa performed an exceptionally attractive little shimmy, and Stannis took a series of deep breaths as he took her in. All of her. Naked. Just for him.

She was flushed pink, and her curves, those pink little nipples, her legs, _gods,_ that neat, closely cropped patch of hair, were all overwhelming to look upon. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but he had no words. There were no words for this sort of perfection.

“Lie down,” he said, his voice cracking a little, his hands going to his belt.

_She said I’d be allowed to do whatever I wanted…_

Stannis wanted a lot of things.

Sansa was on the bed, looking at him with excitement and trepidation.

“If you don’t want to do this right now, say something,” he said, just in case she really did want to go to lunch.

“I want it,” Sansa breathed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes were fixed on his hands where they were occupied with his belt buckle.

His belt taken care of, Stannis hurriedly shrugged off his jacket, pulled on his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt, kicking off his shoes as he went. He lost his patience as soon as his chest and feet were bare, and climbed into bed with his trousers still on. He’d be able to get his cock out, that was all that mattered.

Too impatient to order her to part her legs, he simply pushed them open, and probed at her folds with his fingers. His fingers weren’t _quite_ as nimble as they had been before the accident, but he had been doing his physical therapy exercises, and he was perfectly capable of touching her with care. She didn’t flinch away.

She was wet, but not nearly wet enough to take what he wanted to give her. His desire for this had been building for a long time, and though her hands and her mouth had released some of the pent up tension when she had been staying with him on Dragonstone, three weeks had gone by since then. Three weeks of nothing but her voice and his own hands.

She would need to be _very_ wet if she was to enjoy this.

He crawled down her body, kissing her breasts and her belly rather sloppily as he went, and forced her thighs further apart. She gasped, but it didn’t sound as if she disapproved. He set to work quickly, recalling the tongue movements that she liked, and thrust two fingers inside her cunt to speed things along.

He had missed the way she smelled, the way she puffed up with arousal for him, and how _wet_ he could make her.

When she cried out and her body started to twitch and tremble, he stopped and moved back up until his face was hovering over hers. “Suck,” he ordered, bringing the fingers that he’d just had inside of her to her lips. She latched on eagerly, and gave him a hopeful look. He used his other hand to push his trousers and his underwear down, freeing his cock.

How often had he fantasised about this? How often had she driven him out of his mind with need?

 _I have her now,_ he told himself, trying to calm his raging heartbeat. _Willing and ready._

“I am going to fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked,” he rasped, desire rapidly overwhelming his senses.

Sansa angled her hips to accommodate him, and swirled her tongue around his fingers. His plans seemed to please her.

He pulled his fingers from her mouth so he’d be able to brace himself with one hand and guide his cock with the other. Stannis was glad that they had already discussed birth control and potential health issues. He would have hated to stop now to look for a condom, and he wasn’t entirely sure he would have been able to. 

“Ready?” he asked, giving Sansa one last chance to stop him.

Their eyes met, and Stannis was pleased to see that her arousal seemed to be overpowering the trepidation he had noticed before.

“Yes…” She parted her legs a little further.

He pushed forward and immediately had to stop breathing for a moment. She yielded _perfectly._

He sucked in a lungful of air and groaned.

She felt like nothing he’d ever experienced. Tight and hot and so soaking wet. Surrounding him. _Welcoming_ him. He’d been in a wet cunt before, but he’d never waited this long for one. He’d never wanted a woman this much. Never felt about a woman the way he felt about Sansa.

Sansa was mewling, and when he looked at her he saw an expression of pure pleasure on her face. He was fully sheathed, so he ground himself against her a little, just to see what she’d do.

She moaned, and her inner muscles squeezed him.

“How’s that?” he managed to ask, though his vocabulary was rapidly slipping out of reach.

Sansa’s moan turned into something that approached speech, and he ground himself against her again, his cock twitching inside of her at the breathless words that reached his ears and fed his ego. (“... big …so - _gods_ \- so full …”)

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tensing the muscles in his thighs. He could hardly believe that this was finally happening.

“Stannis, please...”

He didn’t wait for her to say more. Getting on his hands and knees, he pulled out until the head was barely inside of her, waited for two breaths, and slammed himself back in. He almost choked on the pleasure of it -- the hot, _perfect_ friction. The force he used was enough to shift Sansa’s body back a little, pushing her head closer to the headboard. She gasped.

He looked at her and saw that she was holding onto the bedspread. That wouldn’t do. He moved her hands until she was braced against the headboard.

“Hold on,” he said into her ear, his voice guttural.

The next time he thrust forward she tensed her arms, and her body remained in place. _Good._ He didn’t want to give her a concussion.

Now he was ready to begin.

He watched her as he started to search for a good rhythm, trying to make a note of the way her expression changed. How hard could she take it?

He wasn’t patient enough to build up to faster, rougher thrusts slowly, and soon he was slamming himself into her with enough force and enough speed to get the bed to shift a little.

Sansa moaned his name.

“Like that?” he asked, bending down to kiss her quickly.

“Ye-es,” she gasped out.

She was so wet, and so pliant beneath him. The feel of her combined with her eager voice encouraged him to settle his weight on her more fully, grab her legs beneath the knees, spread her wide open, and just start thrusting into her tight little cunt with complete, wild abandon. He was moving so fast, pistoning in and out at a rate that made him feel like the friction never stopped. and enjoying the way his balls slapped against her, the way she squeezed him, the way she squealed and gasped and cried his name, the way her thighs quivered, and above all: the satisfaction of finally, _finally_ being able to act on his desires.

The headboard slammed rhythmically into the wall, and somewhere in the back of his mind the word ‘banging’ started to make a lot more sense.

Mostly his mind was blissfully empty of thought, however. All his focus was on the pleasure of pushing into the heat of her, feeling her cunt accept him so eagerly, and then the _drag_ on the way out, the way she seemed to grab on and try to get him to stay… It was so mouth-wateringly good. His blood was humming with anticipation, his muscles charged with energy, and the steady build of his climax was coiling deliciously at the base of his spine.

When he started getting really close, he stopped for a moment to calm himself down, and made Sansa point her legs straight up and rest them against his chest.

Sansa made a sound that he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“Okay?”

“Yes, please don’t stop...” her voice was throaty and slurred, and the sound of it sent a fresh wave of arousal through him.

Stannis grabbed the headboard, and started to move again, gradually building up speed until he was fucking her harder than before, ploughing into her with more leverage, and even more speed.

“Oh, _gods_ , oh… gods, Stannis, ah, _ah!_ ” Sansa’s voice climbed higher and higher, and Stannis wondered if he’d be able to make her scream.

“You like getting fucked this hard, don’t you?” he asked, in between laboured breaths.

“ _Yes… !_ ” Sansa’s voice was a high-pitched whine -- almost a squeal.

“You need it, don’t you?” They were both panting. “You need to be fucked just... like... this,” he rasped, punctuating the question with a series of rough, powerful thrusts.

Sansa didn’t answer him with words. She scrunched up her face and screamed for him, almost loudly enough to make his ears ring. He could feel her cunt clamp down, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head for a second at the white-hot pleasure of it.

By biting the inside of his cheek and slowing down, he managed not to follow her over the edge. A few weeks ago he would not have been able to do it, but right now he felt like he could do _anything._

He was in charge.

When Sansa’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with a glazed, satisfied expression, he forced himself to stay still.

“That was amazing,” she said, beautifully flushed with her orgasm.

He raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m done?”

Her lips parted, her eyes widened a little, and Stannis felt her inner muscles flutter around him. Reluctantly, he pulled out.

“Turn around.”

Her cheeks went from pink to bright red, and she blinked at him.

“ _Now._ ” He was so close that he could taste it. His balls already felt tight.

She scrambled to turn around and put her ass in the air, and he didn’t keep her waiting. He needed to get back inside where it was warm.

He groaned as he watched his cock sink into her from behind, and fondled her round cheeks with relish. She was beautiful like this. She was beautiful no matter where he looked.

There was something incredibly arousing about the way her cries were now muffled by the pillow her face was buried in, and he liked being able to watch his cock as he fucked her. He was able to penetrate her exquisitely deeply from this angle, and create satisfyingly loud smacks as he hammered himself into her.

Unfortunately, he was too far gone to last very long.

He was a sweating, grunting mess when he came, but he didn’t care. He felt powerful, whole, and in complete control of both his own body and hers. After all that time being helpless in his casts, it was an intoxicating feeling.

He kept a hand on the small of Sansa’s back as he pulled out, watching with interest as his semen immediately started to dribble out of her, making a satisfying mess of her pretty pink folds. He stroked the cheek of her ass, cast her one more admiring glance, and then collapsed onto his back, his heart still working overtime.

Sansa cuddled up to him as soon as he was on his back, her hand stroking and petting his chest.

“You’re definitely done now,” she said after a while. “I can feel your… stuff... leaking out.”

“Semen,” he corrected.

“Yeah,” Sansa agreed, sounding embarrassed. “I should go clean up.”

Stannis moved his hand down her body and collected some of the viscous fluid from between her thighs. “Lick,” he told her, bringing his fingers to her mouth much like he had after he’d fingered her earlier. He half expected her to wrinkle her nose, or redden with embarrassment, but she didn’t. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and she opened her mouth and made herself likely to envelop his fingers with her lips and start sucking like before.

He pulled his hand out of her reach. “ _Lick,_ ” he repeated, more firmly. Just because they’d finished, it did not mean he wasn’t still in charge. He needed her to understand that.

She blinked, hesitated for a moment with her lips parted, her eyes dark, and her cheeks pink, but then her tongue darted out to lick his sticky fingers. She cast him another one of her hopeful little looks, and he nodded once in approval.

“Good,” he murmured. He collected more of his semen and made her lick again. He liked watching her nimble little tongue dart in and out, and he liked the sensation of it, warm and wet against the sensitive pads of his fingers.

He kissed her after a while, tasting their mingled fluids on her tongue. She tasted salty, sharp, and _obedient_ , and he groaned, feeling satisfaction and a sense of power flowing into every cell of his body. 

Sansa wriggled in his arms, pressing herself closer, and kissing him just as passionately as he was kissing her. They were both sweaty, Sansa’s long hair was sticking to both their bodies, and soon he’d go blue in the face if he didn’t come up for air, but he didn’t care. If he choked now he’d die happy.

“Was it good for you?” Sansa asked not long after their kiss finally broke.

Stannis was surprised by the question. _Obviously_ it had been good. Was she really that insecure? He examined her face, his brow furrowed. To his relief, he did not really see insecurity in her eyes, but there was still that hopeful look… and something eager and earnest.

“You know it was,” he said slowly, wondering what she was after. Something was nagging him at the back of his mind. It felt as if he should know what she wanted.

“You liked it?” She bit her lip.

The memory that had been skirting the edge of his thoughts suddenly surfaced.

_“I like the way you expect things to be done a certain way, and that you don’t accept anything that isn’t to your standards. It makes me feel like it’s that much more of an accomplishment when I do manage to please you.”_

“I’m very pleased,” he said, testing his theory.

Sansa’s eyes immediately brightened, and she smiled at him. “Really?”

“Never more pleased in my life,” he murmured truthfully, observing her with interest.

Her smile widened, and she kissed him. After that she burrowed close and started petting his chest again.

A few minutes went by in silence. Stannis wondered whether Sansa genuinely derived such excessive pleasure from pleasing him, or whether it was an act she felt that she needed to put on. Based on his observations and some of their previous conversations, he was fairly convinced it was the former.

It was all rather… gratifying.

Sansa suddenly broke the peaceful silence. 

“Have you ever - I mean, do you have any opinions about…” She trailed off as suddenly as she had started speaking.

“About what?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.” Stannis had no patience for this sort of thing.

“It’s stupid. Nevermind.”

“Sansa,” he warned, “finish your question or there will be consequences.”

Sansa’s breath audibly hitched in her throat. “... What kind of consequences?” 

She actually sounded intrigued by his empty threat. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard that tone in her voice, either. He wondered what it meant, but he wasn’t in the mood to figure it out at the moment; he was more interested in finding out what she had wanted to ask him. He huffed. “You don’t want to know.”

After a bit of a pause, Sansa finally spoke. “I just wondered whether you had feelings about pet names.”

Stannis closed his eyes for a moment and suppressed a grimace. He dearly hoped that she was not about to ask to call him ‘snookums’ or something equally ridiculous. He really didn’t think she was that sort of girl, but she might still surprise him.

“What kind of pet names?” he asked carefully.

“I don’t know… like sweetheart, maybe?” She was looking at him like a nervous doe, ready to bolt.

 _Sweetheart?_ “You want to call me that?” He supposed he’d be able to tolerate it for her sake. Maybe even grow to like it. She was special to him.

“No!” she exclaimed. A blush crept up from her neck to her cheeks. “I mean... no. I wondered if you might call me that.”

He relaxed. “Just in private?”

Sansa nodded.

“I think I could do that,” he said, thinking it over. He felt a surprisingly hot pulse of arousal when he imagined using the endearment during sex.

“I just want to try it,” Sansa said, sounding shy. “I’m not even sure I’ll like it.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he murmured, testing it out. The word was affectionate and innocent, but it sounded sexually charged as it rolled of his tongue. He liked it.

He felt her shudder, and saw her lips part for a moment before she hid her face against his chest. If Stannis had to guess, he’d say she liked it, too.

“Is there… is there anything you’d like me to call you?” Sansa asked, her voice a little muffled. “Just in private.”

Nothing came to mind. “Stannis will do,” he said, feeling strangely like he was letting her down somehow.

“Okay.”

They were quiet again for a little while. Stannis became aware that his boxers and trousers were still tangled around one ankle. He’d never managed to take them off.

“Should we go to lunch now?” Sansa asked.

Stannis moved quickly, and managed to take Sansa by surprise. He pinned her underneath his bulk and looked her straight in the eyes so that she would know he was being dead serious. 

“We aren’t leaving this room until I have to catch the train back to King’s Landing tomorrow.”

Soon he’d be hard again, and he wanted to see how she’d react when he called her sweetheart as he fucked her. They’d just order in if they got hungry.


	15. A Near Slip

Sansa focused on breathing. 

She was in bed. Naked. Next to Stannis, and yet her mind was still catching up with everything that had just happened. She could hardly believe it, but she and Stannis had actually done it. _Sex._ It had started to feel a little like it would never happen, and then suddenly it just had. 

It had happened in rather an overwhelming way.

Being confronted with a healthy, fully-functioning version of Stannis had been thrilling and a little nerve-racking. Especially since he just seemed so… different. But in a good way. The bitterness that had always seemed to linger around him had been missing, and there was nothing _crumpled_ about him -- no trace of the sullen patient she had cared for. All that remained was _him._ She had seen hints of what he would be like once he was healed of course, so it wasn’t like she had been completely surprised, but it was still a lot to cope with all at once.

He was so… _tall._ And he seemed to know _exactly_ what he wanted and how he wanted it. But that hadn’t surprised her. He had always known those things. She just hadn’t expected him to go after her so fast, and she really hadn’t expected Stannis to be so utterly confident, so driven, so… _aggressive._

She squirmed a little, and felt herself blush. There was a delicious ache between her thighs that reminded her that she really hadn’t minded his aggression. And why should she have minded? She hadn’t wanted Stannis to treat her like she might break. He had given her exactly what she had needed after they’d spent all that time building up the sort of sexual tension that could probably kill in large doses.

The warm feeling in her cheeks only intensified as she realised exactly how _loud_ they had been. Hopefully the other guests at the inn had all been out doing tourist things.

She hid her face against Stannis’ warm, sweaty chest, but though it was hidden, it continued to burn as she mentally reviewed the conversation she and Stannis had just had. She couldn’t believe she’d actually plucked up the courage to ask Stannis to call her _sweetheart._ Had she been completely out of her mind? She bit her lip. Maybe she had only been able to ask because she hadn’t really planned it? The beginning of the question had just sort of… slipped out. And then Stannis had pushed her to finish it.

_”... finish your question or there will be consequences.”_

She squirmed some more, her heart rate picking up.

It was all because of Randa and that stupid dream. It was definitely _not_ because she had daddy issues like Randa said. The dream had just made her imagine what it would be like if Stannis were to call her sweetheart in bed, and then when he had actually been inside of her, talking to her, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how hot it would be if he’d say those dirty things and then call her sweetheart in the next breath.

It was just the contrast of dirty words and sweet words thrown together she liked, really. The fact that the only other person who ever called her sweetheart was her father was a complete coincidence.

Her stomach clenched in on itself and fluttered strangely.

She didn’t know whether she was disappointed or relieved that Stannis hadn’t asked her to call him by some endearment in return. She liked calling him Stannis, but she had been hoping that perhaps he had some desire that she’d be able to fulfil for him.

Sansa pushed the thought from her mind. “Should we go to lunch now?” she asked, hoping that some food would help distract her from the writhing sensation in the pit of her stomach.

The words were barely out of her mouth before Stannis was on top of her, pinning her down and pressing himself intimately against her. His eyes smoldered as he gazed down at her.

“We aren’t leaving this room until I have to catch the train back to King’s Landing tomorrow.”

She felt a rush of warmth between her thighs, and her lips parted of their own accord. She managed to take a single breath before Stannis descended, kissing her forcefully like before, apparently under the impression that she would escape or disappear if he didn’t fuse their mouths together. 

Sansa loved every second of it.

Stannis’ hands started to roam, and she felt him kick his trousers off as he kissed and fondled her. She let her hands wander, too. First she scraped her fingernails down the back of his head, enjoying the way Stannis moaned into her mouth. After that she explored his back, letting the tips of her fingers feel how his muscles shifted and bunched up under his skin as he moved around. She even grabbed his ass at once point, her heart pounding as she squeezed and pulled him closer. He was hardening against her already, and she wanted him to come back inside.

She pouted when Stannis rolled off onto his back. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he said, his voice sending a jolt of arousal through her. He sounded so very… in control. But it wasn’t a cool sort of control. There was heat in his voice. Somehow he was both authoritative and full of raw need, and it was possibly the most arousing thing in the world. “Come here.”

She straddled him, closing her eyes for a moment when his cock came back into contact with her centre. He was almost fully hard, and it felt good to rub up against him, wet as she was with her own moisture and… other things. _Semen._ It felt even better when his hands came up to play with her nipples, pinching and pulling lightly, his gaze focused and intense as it swept over her exposed body.

He still hadn’t said anything about what he thought of her. Today was the first time he’d seen her completely naked, and he hadn’t said a single word about it. She could understand that he had been distracted before - she had been, too - but now… maybe he was a little less distracted now?

“Stannis?” She bit her lip and stopped rubbing herself quite as eagerly against him.

“Mm?” He was still fondling her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples repeatedly, but she didn’t let it distract her -- even though it felt rather amazing.

“What do you think?” She looked down at herself and tried to stop herself from blushing.

“Of what?” he asked. His voice had gone all graveled like it sometimes went, and it made her squirm on top of him.

“You know. Me.” She looked down at herself again.

“Sweetheart...” Stannis said, dragging his eyes slowly upwards and locking onto her face. He hesitated for a moment, looking at a loss for words. He inhaled and let the air back out slowly. “You are _perfect._ ”

She could feel him harden even more between her thighs, and closed her eyes. Her face and neck felt burning hot despite her efforts not to blush, and her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her. 

_Perfect._

Stannis was still looking at her face when she opened her eyes again, his gaze intense with arousal. He was obviously ready for more.

So was she.

With a deep breath she rose up slightly and used one of her hands to line Stannis’ cock up with her entrance. She was a little sensitive inside, so she gave a little whimper when the head split her open. He felt just as big as he had the first time. _Gods._

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Stannis murmured, his hands massaging her hips, “take it all.”

A surge of fresh moisture met his words, and Sansa sank down with a gasp, stuffing herself full. Everything was throbbing a bit, but it felt good. She let out a drawn out moan and wriggled, getting herself settled. He really did verge on being uncomfortably large. She let herself fall forward a bit, and placed her hands on the pillow on each side of Stannis’ head.

Stannis had closed his eyes and tensed his jaw, but Sansa guessed that it was from pleasure, not pain. She waited for him to open his eyes and clenched her inner muscles on purpose, watching for his reaction.

He hissed out a breath, muttering a low curse. A sharp look followed, and his hands went from her hips to her ass and squeezed. His body was taut beneath hers, and even if he weren’t practically glaring at her, she would have been able to tell how much he wanted her to move.

Feeling playful, Sansa clenched her muscles again, but did not move.

Stannis narrowed his eyes and gave her ass a swift smack. “I’d advise you to get on with it,” he said.

As soon as he had spanked her, Sansa had closed her eyes and stopped breathing. It hadn’t hurt. It had turned her insides to _molten lava_. Even without the warning in his voice, she would have been unable to stay still. She had never felt this aroused in her life -- it was almost too much for her body to cope with, and she felt as if something wild - something _primeval_ \- had taken her over.

She rose up and impaled herself, again and again, faster and faster, ignoring the way her thighs were complaining about the unusual exercise, ignoring the way her breasts were bouncing a little uncomfortably. She used more force than she had ever used in this position, all thoughts of being sore or sensitive gone from her mind. She could hear Stannis grunt occasionally when she brought herself down with enough force, and the noises spurred her on.

Eventually she started to get _really_ tired, however, and was forced to slow down. She wanted to keep up the wild pace, but her muscles protested and demanded a rest. She started to grind herself against Stannis instead, moving back and forth while fully impaled, enjoying the jolts of pleasure she felt when her clit rubbed against his pubic bone.

“Tired already, sweetheart?” Stannis asked, moving his hands to her breasts and pinching her nipples in just the right way: hard enough for her to feel it, but gently enough to keep it pleasurable.

She rose up, taking her hands off the pillow and straightening her back. “A little,” she admitted. She was still grinding against him, unable to stop completely. It felt so _good._

“I suppose I will just have to help you, then.”

Stannis raised his knees and planted his feet, and moved his hands to grip her by her hips again. She understood what he was about to do a split second before he started, but a startled gasp left her lips nonetheless. He lifted her up, and then pushed her back down on his cock while thrusting up at the same time. She tried to help him along with her thighs, but she gave up after a few thrusts. She couldn’t keep up with him. All she could do was close her eyes, hold on, and cry out each time he filled her.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Stannis said after a little while, sounding out of breath. He met her eyes, and Sansa clenched up involuntarily at the heat in his gaze. His pupils were completely blown out, and he was sweating. He hissed out an indistinguishable word and squeezed his eyes shut when her inner muscles clamped down on him, and the sight of his reaction, combined with the feel of him starting to thrust more urgently, pushed her over the edge.

She cried his name and made a sound that she would hardly have believed herself capable of making before this moment. It was strangled and not at all ladylike, but she couldn’t have stopped herself to save her life.

As before, Stannis took a little longer to finish, and as before, he changed their position. This time he simply rolled them over so that he could be on top, and proceeded to hold onto her ankles and fuck her at a pace that was a lot faster, but less forceful than before. With every quick thrust his body kissed hers lightly, nudging her sensitive clit. It was as if he were determined to tease another orgasm from her before he was through.

A gave a keening whimper and shot him a desperate look. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he panted, “come for me.”

She closed her eyes, and heard his graveled voice continue in her imagination. 

_Come for daddy like a good girl…_

She felt a little like she was cramping up, but in a good way. She sobbed with pleasure as she practically convulsed, and wished she could open her eyes when she heard Stannis groan more loudly than before, his cock pulsing inside of her. She was sure that he was coming, and she was sure it would be hot to see his face. He had been behind her last time when he came, and she hadn’t been able to see anything, then.

By the time she managed to force her eyes open, they were both mostly down from their highs. Stannis was breathing hard, but he looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him look. She kept her eyes trained on his face as he pulled out of her and let her put her legs down, and smiled to herself at the dazed, satisfied expression he wore.

“Good?” she asked, once she had settled herself next to him, using his chest as a pillow. She hoped he’d say he was pleased like he had before. She’d never get tired of hearing that.

“You were _very_ good, sweetheart,” Stannis said. His voice had gone husky, and Sansa rubbed her thighs together, feeling his stuff - his _semen_ \- run out of her. Her heart felt huge and warm, and she couldn’t remember ever having felt this satisfied and happy.

It was a perfect moment, and for a while Sansa kept her eyes closed and let herself bask in it.

Reality needed to be dealt with eventually, however. Semen was still coating her inner thighs, but she decided not to mention anything about cleaning up. It had been incredibly hot when he had made her lick the mess off his fingers earlier, but this time she really needed to go and clean up _properly._

Stannis wasn’t keen to let her go, but she told him she had to powder her nose, and he released her. His eyes lingered on her naked form as she made her way to the en suite, but it didn’t make her feel shy. She loved the way he looked at her.

They ordered takeout delivered to their room and ate at the table by the window. Stannis put on a robe and offered Sansa one, but she decided to eat in the nude, and enjoyed the way Stannis kept getting distracted, and how his food kept falling off his fork before it made it to his mouth.

“Do you need me to do that for you?” she asked him after his food fell off his fork for the fifth time.

She had expected him to give her a stern look, but to her immense surprise he raised an eyebrow and put his fork down. “If you’re offering,” he said.

Sansa blinked at him, her own food forgotten. Where was his pride? Stannis had insisted on eating all his own food himself from the moment he was out of his casts. Was this some kind of trick?

She stood up slowly and walked to his side of the table. Stannis raked his eyes over her form, the heated appreciation that she had been enjoying so much melting into something a lot more… predatory. The fine hairs of her body stood on end, making her skin tingle.

Stannis backed his chair away from the table a little, wordlessly indicating that she should sit on his lap. She sat. Stannis’ eyes glittered. With a blush, Sansa reached for his fork, gathered a bit of rice and a bit of pork, and offered the food to Stannis. It was a familiar ritual, and at the same time it was completely new.

The silence in the room felt electric as she fed him bite after bite, unable to tear her eyes from his intense gaze.

“Your turn,” he said once his plate was clear.

Sansa made to stand up, but he stopped her. He dragged her plate over, switching it with his own. Then, with a couple of decisive movements, he turned her so that she was facing the same way he was, her ass over his groin, her thighs spread wide. He started to run his fingers over her folds - still tender from before - while the other hand picked up a fork and started to feed her.

It was incredibly difficult to eat while he was distracting her with his fingers, but Sansa somehow managed to open her mouth and chew when appropriate for a little while. She barely noticed the taste of her food. There was still quite a bit of fried rice left on her plate when she started to quiver, however, unable to accept more food while he was circling her clit -- toying with her.

“Not hungry anymore, sweetheart?”

“Please,” she moaned, squirming against his hand.

“Please what?”

“I need -” Sansa didn’t know what she needed. She was sensitive and she ached, but she also felt so _empty_ inside. She couldn’t ask him to take her again, though. It would be unreasonable and a little crazy. He needed time to recover, and so did she.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” she whimpered, squirming more fretfully against his hand, chasing what pleasure his fingers could give her, knowing that it wouldn’t be enough.

“Do you need my cock, sweetheart?” He pushed a single finger inside, and she felt herself clamp down greedily.

“Yes,” she moaned, knowing it was insane, but unable to stop herself.

“On your knees, then,” he said, his voice hoarse. He took his hand away, pushed her to her feet, and turned her around to face him. She stared down at him where he sat, bold as brass.

“What?” She didn’t understand.

“Get on your knees,” he repeated patiently, untying the cloth belt that kept his robe closed.

She could see that he was limp, and realised that he needed her help to get hard so he’d be able to fuck her again. Or at least she hoped that was the plan. She’d go mad if he just made her suck him to completion without satisfying the need he had awoken within her.

The floor looked like it would be uncomfortable, so Sansa quickly grabbed a pillow from the bed before kneeling and taking Stannis’ limp cock into her mouth. It was easy to suck him when he was like this, but she didn’t want it to be easy. She wanted it to be _hard._ She fondled his balls and sucked on them too, ignoring the wiry hairs, and did every trick she knew with her tongue.

Stannis had one hand buried in her hair, encouraging and guiding her gently. He didn’t say much, but he made little noises of pleasure sometimes. Especially when she sucked on his balls.

This would have been very easy if it hadn’t been for the fact that the empty ache between her legs got worse with each minute that went by without him hardening, and after what felt like an eternity, Sansa made a frustrated whimpering sound.

“You may touch yourself if you like,” Stannis said, sounding calm and relaxed. Like he had all the time in the world.

Sansa put her hand to work at once, rubbing herself a little desperately. She was sensitive from everything that had gone on, and was forced to be gentle with herself so that it would feel nice. She throbbed on the inside, needing to be filled, but pushing her fingers in wasn’t nearly good enough.

She looked up at Stannis, and tried to suck harder, hoping he would respond soon.

His hand tightened in her hair when their eyes met, and Sansa finally felt his cock start to stiffen. She didn’t dare look away from his face, since she had a feeling the eye contact was helping him get turned on. She looked up at him as she licked and sucked, her neck aching and her heart pounding. She could feel blood rush to her cheeks as a strange sort of embarrassment overtook her, but she kept going. She needed him too much to let embarrassment distract her.

He was bigger now, and halfway hard, so it was getting more difficult to suck him. She couldn’t look up anymore. Soon she had to use both hands to focus on his pleasure, and make do with squeezing her thighs together to relieve some of her need.

“Fuck, sweetheart - that’s it,” Stannis said, guiding her head a little more decisively, encouraging her to bob her head up and down and take him a little deeper. “That’s it…”

She was pretty sure he was fully erect now, and she hoped he would let her stop soon, because she could barely breathe. He was controlling the pace more than she was, and it was faster than she would have wanted. She squeezed one of his thighs, trying to get his attention.

“I’ve missed your mouth,” he groaned, thrusting up a little and pushing his cock even further in - almost into her throat.

She gagged.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling out of her mouth and giving her a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

She coughed. “Fine,” she managed after a few seconds. “But I need you,” she added, trying to sound seductive (and probably failing since she was still coughing a little).

The ghost of a smirk touched his lips. “By all means, then. Have a seat,” he said.

She stood up a little uncertainly, not sure whether he meant for her to straddle his lap or sit somewhere else. As soon as she was on her feet he answered her unspoken questions. He turned her so that her back was to his chest, and made her sit down on top if him. It was a bit tricky to get his cock notched in the right place, and the angle was a little weird, but eventually he was pushing inside, and she was moaning in relief. Grinding was the only thing they could really do in this position, but it felt incredible. 

After a little while, Stannis surprised her by pushing her thighs apart, unbalancing her a little.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

She relaxed and did her best to trust him. Her trust was rewarded when Stannis put his hand between her spread thighs, playing with her clit again.

Something about this position had her imagination going into overdrive, and she could hear Stannis’ voice, and practically feel his hot breath as he whispered in her ear.

_Do you like sitting on daddy’s lap, sweetheart?_

And even though Stannis was actually kissing her neck and definitely not talking, Sansa managed to bounce herself a little in response to her fantasy. Stannis figured out a way to help her do it after a few false starts, and as she bounced, Sansa couldn’t help but think of a childhood game she had used to play. Her father had never played it, but Uncle Brynden sometimes had. He’d make her and Arya bounce up and down on his knees, and then suddenly spread them and pretend to let them fall through -- though he had always held them secure. They had shrieked and laughed and begged him to do it again and again. He’d stopped doing it with Sansa after she had turned five or six, and she could still recall how jealous she’d been when he’d kept doing it for Arya for at least another year.

 _This,_ she thought, as Stannis’ cock filled her and chased away the ache that had been driving her mad, _is just a much more grown up version of that game…_

They were both so sweaty by the time they reached the point of no return that Sansa’s hair was plastered to her face, and her back slid against Stannis’ chest as if they were both greased up.

His fingers were rubbing her in just the right way, and his cock was making her feel absurdly full.

“Yes, yes-yes-yes -” she babbled, needing to urge him on, needing him to keep going just like _this._ And then happened -- almost like an electric shock. Sansa shuddered as her orgasm overtook her body, and she heard herself continue to babble, even as she listened to Stannis’ grunts of pleasure.

“It’s so good - please don’t stop, oh, _gods,_ oh, please da -” She stuttered, and her heart stopped beating for a moment. “Please _Stannis,_ ” she hurriedly said, trying to cover her mistake.

He was groaning and shuddering, clearly in the middle of his own release, and then he was kissing her neck some more, licking at her skin in a way that almost made her want to start all over. Unfortunately he was softening inside of her, and his hands were stroking her thighs like he was preparing to help her stand up. But she didn’t want to stand up. She didn’t want to face him and find out whether he’d noticed what she had almost said.

She couldn’t stay seated forever, however, and Stannis would probably just become suspicious if she resisted his hints. Her stomach clenched up when she was on her feet, feeling semen run down her inner thighs.

She was on pins and needles as Stannis stood up, watching him like a hawk and trying to figure out whether he’d picked up on anything. It didn’t seem like it. Or at least, he was too busy herding her into the en suite for a shower to give any sign of having realised what she nearly called him.

The en suite was large, luxurious, and appointed with every modern comfort one could imagine. The shower had glass walls and more buttons and dials than Sansa had ever seen, and along the wall there were fluffy white towels waiting to be used -- radiator towel rails keeping them nice and warm.

Stannis had the shower going in no time: the water hot enough to steam up the large mirror over the sink.

“After you,” he said, looking at her in that heated, affectionate way of his, making her feel as if everything was as it should be.

 _He didn’t notice._ He wouldn’t be looking at her as if everything was normal if he had, would he? The relief made her let out a little laugh.

“Too hot?” Stannis asked.

“It’s perfect,” she said, smiling widely.

He followed her into the shower, and for a while they did nothing but kiss and enjoy being slippery and wet together. Sansa couldn’t stop smiling.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” she offered a little cheekily, running her hands down his back.

“I thought I might wash yours,” he said, pressing a watery kiss to the corner of her mouth. His eyes were dark, but still so full of affection.

Her grin faded to a shy smile. “Oh, um. Okay.”

It felt like _heaven._ If she had been a cat she would have purred. She _did_ purr, a little. His hands were gentle, and he was in no rush. It was better than any treatment at a salon because he was taking his sweet time, and also because he occasionally got distracted from the lather in her hair and played with her breasts and nipples, which had never happened at any salon Sansa had gone to.

By the time they were both clean and dry and back in bed, Stannis had effectively erased all her worries and lulled her into a state of perfect contentment.

 _A nap,_ Sansa thought, _is just what we need._

And as it turned out, a nap was exactly what they got.


	16. Research

By the time Stannis had to pack his belongings and take the rental back to the train station after dinner on Sunday, Sansa felt as if she’d spent the entire weekend on horseback. Her thighs ached. She ached _inside._ Throbbed, practically. She was so sore that when Stannis had somehow managed to get hard right before dinner, Sansa offered to go down on him instead of eagerly spreading her legs like she had been doing up until then. He had reciprocated, and his tongue had felt lovely and soothing, and the orgasm had been wonderful, but it hadn’t changed the fact that she just Could. Not. Have. More. Sex. She was all sexed out. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel this tender after _good_ sex. It made sense to feel like a walking bruise after _bad_ sex, yes, but absolutely none of the sex she’d had with Stannis had been bad.

The only ‘bad’ moment had been when she had almost called him daddy because of those stupid fantasies she couldn’t seem to stop having.

Maybe it had been a mistake to ask him to call her sweetheart? Every time he whispered the endearment in her ear while they were in the middle of… things, it brought the fantasies further to life. She had tried to think about something else to distract herself, but she just hadn’t been able to help it. There was just something about those fantasies that made her orgasms feel twice as powerful, and twice as good.

… And they soothed an ache in her heart that she hadn’t quite realised was there until it suddenly wasn’t.

Sansa tried not to make any eye contact with anyone in the lobby as she and Stannis went to check out. She was hoping that no one had heard her and Stannis over the weekend, but she was fairly sure that no ordinary walls in the world were soundproof enough to make that likely. She couldn’t avoid eye contact with _everyone,_ however. She was standing next to Stannis as he checked out, and it was only polite to look at the receptionist who was assisting him. The woman raised a brow at Sansa as she accepted Stannis’ room key, but kept a relatively straight face, otherwise. Sansa blushed and kept her eyes firmly on a vague spot in the middle distance after that.

They were quiet in the car on the way to the train station, and Sansa tried not to wince whenever there was a bump on the road. Stannis cast her a concerned look when they ran over a pothole and she grimaced.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing a hot bath and a week or two away from you won’t cure,” Sansa said, inserting a bit of humour into the voice. “I won’t be able to walk properly until tomorrow, you ridiculous man.”

Stannis looked conflicted for a moment: amusement and dismay fighting for dominance. “Are you hurt?” he asked, dismay apparently winning out.

“Of course not,” Sansa said, “I enjoyed every bit of this weekend. It’s all just a bit much when you’re not used to it.” She shot him a smile and fiddled with her handbag.

Stannis nodded seriously. “I must confess, I’m feeling a bit… chafed.”

Sansa burst into laughter. “Maybe we should take it a little easier the next time you visit?”

Though he wasn’t laughing with her, Stannis’ lips had quirked into an approximation of a smile and his eyes were somehow more _alive_ than they usually were. “Perhaps that would be wise.”

***

It was Friday. Nearly two weeks had gone by since Stannis had experienced the best weekend of his life, exploring every inch of Sansa until his cock felt raw and she couldn’t walk. Last weekend he had stayed at home, but tomorrow he intended to visit her again. He had booked the same room, but Sansa had made him promise that they wouldn’t stay in bed the whole time he was there.

He and Sansa had been speaking over the phone nearly every night, but it wasn’t quite the same as being with her in person. Though they were still getting to know each other and had plenty to talk about, Stannis missed the physical intimacy of being in the same room with her. Being able to kiss her, touch, her, and _fuck_ her was an important part of getting to know her, though obviously it wasn’t the only part.

He was looking forward to seeing her again.

“You’re in a good mood,” Davos said as they walked from the last meeting of the day and back towards Stannis’ office.

“Am I?” He was, but he wanted to know how he had given it away.

“You didn’t even frown when Robert called that lawyer from Lys by the wrong title. Not that I’m any good with all those titles they have over there, but usually you expect Robert to be on top of those things.”

“It was probably just a slip of the tongue,” Stannis said, “and not a very insulting one. The lawyer didn’t seem to care.” It had certainly been a less interesting slip of the tongue than the one he had almost forgotten about until now.

_“It’s so good - please don’t stop, oh, _gods,_ oh, please Da -”_

“Still, if you weren’t in a good mood I doubt you’d be as forgiving.”

Stannis made a noncommittal noise and sat down at his desk. Davos took a seat in one of the visitor’s chairs.

“I’m going to the Vale tomorrow,” Stannis said, forcing himself to keep a straight face even though his mind was full of Sansa’s moans.

“Ah,” Davos said, his face breaking out into a grin. “That explains it.”

Stannis looked at his friend and couldn’t help but wonder. Had Sansa almost said ‘Davos’? He furrowed his brow. Did that make any sense? Sansa had barely met Davos. Surely his friend hadn’t left such a strong impression on her? Stannis continued to examine Davos’ face surreptitiously. He was fairly good looking, Stannis supposed, and he had an easy smile…

“Do I want to know what you’re thinking right now?” Davos said, interrupting Stannis’ train of thought. He sounded wary.

“You’ve met Sansa,” Stannis said, gauging Davos’ reaction. He’d be able to tell if Davos was harbouring any guilt.

Davos didn’t look even a little bit guilty. He just nodded. “Yes, outside the hospital.”

“That’s the only time?” Stannis really didn’t think his friend had ever met Sansa again after that, but he needed to make sure.

“Of course. We never got around to arranging that dinner party. Marya’s very put out with me about that, by the way.” Davos scratched the back of his head. “What’s this about?”

Sansa’s moans and her near slip played on a loop in Stannis’ head, and he felt himself redden. “Nothing.”

“No, I know you. Something’s bothering you. Tell me. Maybe I can help?”

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to get his friend’s opinion. He wouldn’t have to tell Davos that Sansa’s tongue slipped during sex. It could have happened during an ordinary conversation.

“Sansa and I were talking the other day. On the phone. And she… she nearly called me by the wrong name. She started saying ‘Da’, but then she caught herself.”

“And you think she was about to say my name?” Davos asked, looking incredibly amused. “Stannis, I barely know her. It’s a lot more likely that she was about to say ‘Dad’. I’m sure she talks to her parents a lot more often than she talks to me.”

“ _No,_ ” Stannis said at once, feeling his face heat up even more. “That can’t be it.”

Davos furrowed his brow and stared at Stannis for a moment, searching his face. His eyes widened slightly. “It wasn’t on the phone, was it?”

“Of course it was. That’s what I said.” Stannis felt a drop of sweat run down the back of his neck.

Davos’ jaw dropped and he raised his eyebrows as high as they would go before snapping his mouth shut. “It was during _sex?_ ”

“ _No._ ”

“It _was._ ” Davos was shaking his head and staring. “Well, I stand by my guess,” he said after a little while, his lips quirking into a smirk.

“That’s disgusting,” Stannis said, willing his heart to stop pounding. “She does _not_ think I’m _Ned_.”

Davos cleared his throat and looked briefly at the ceiling. “I’m sure she doesn’t,” he said. “But it’s a common enough thing for people to cry out during… “ Davos cleared his throat again.

Stannis frowned down at his desk. He was aware that some immature college boys felt the need to make themselves feel like grown men by repeatedly asking their unfortunate bed-mates who their daddy was, but he was fairly sure that mainly happened in second rate comedies shown on airplanes.

“It’s still disgusting,” Stannis forced out, his face still uncomfortably hot.

Davos sighed. “I believe the term is ‘kinky’, not disgusting. And perhaps you should discuss the matter with your girlfriend before you start kinkshaming her.”

Stannis stared at Davos. _Girlfriend?_ “Kinkshaming?” 

His friend shrugged. “Kinkshaming is when you unfairly judge someone for having a harmless kink."

Stannis blinked at Davos, vaguely wondering why his friend knew terms like that. 

"I have a teenage son. Sometimes I listen when he talks to his friends. I learn things,” Davos explained.

There was a pause. Stannis blinked rapidly, trying to wrap his mind around the bizarre turn this conversation had taken.

“Look,” Davos said, appearing rather uncomfortable now, “if you’re curious, I expect there are a lot of resources online. Perhaps you should do a bit of reading before you ask her about it.”

Stannis swallowed, nodded, and decided that he’d had enough of this subject matter. “I have work to do.”

Davos recognised the dismissal and stood up. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m heading home.”

Stannis grunted.

“See you on Monday,” Davos said, waving as he walked out of Stannis’ office.

“Davos,” Stannis said before his friend disappeared from view.

Davos stopped in the doorway and gave Stannis a polite, inquiring look.

Stannis swallowed. “Don’t repeat what we discussed to anyone.”

“Of course not.” Davos gave a solemn nod, and left.

A few minutes passed by in complete silence as Stannis stared into the middle distance, replaying Davos’ words in his mind.

His heart was beating uncomfortably hard. Had Sansa really almost called him _daddy_ during sex? He swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry. It really didn’t seem right. Stannis glanced at his laptop, wondering about the online resources Davos had mentioned. In a trance, Stannis opened his laptop, called up a browser and started to type.

_Daddy. Kinky._

His finger hovered over the enter key on his keyboard for a moment. He almost pressed it, but caught himself in time.

 _Not on the work computer,_ he scolded himself, erasing the words.

For a while he made himself stare at his email client, but his thoughts were all over the place. He couldn’t focus on work.

Once he was at home, he paced the floor of his study for an age, debating whether he should really research the matter. Perhaps it had just been an innocent slip of the tongue. Maybe Davos was just having a wildly inappropriate laugh. Stannis ground his teeth at the idea.

 _No. Davos wouldn’t pull my leg about something like this._ As awkward as it had been to discuss something so private with Davos, Stannis knew he could trust him.

Eventually, his curiosity compelled him to sit down and type the words again. 

_Daddy. Kinky._

Curiosity... and something else. An odd sort of tension had settled low in his belly. A pressure that felt _almost_ like arousal. But it wasn’t. This wasn’t arousing. This was… research.

He pressed enter.

The first result that his search engine returned was from the Urban Dictionary. 

_Daddy kink._

_Where during sexual intercourse the male becomes aroused when his partner calls him “daddy”._

That wasn’t right. Stannis had never indicated to Sansa that he found it arousing to be called ‘daddy’. Confused, and certainly not aroused, Stannis looked at his search results again. His face warmed when he saw that near the top of the page there was a link to Pornhub, boasting of ‘Daddy Kink Porn Videos’.

Shifting in his seat and wanting to avoid that link at all cost, Stannis hurriedly pressed a link that seemed less dangerous. The link - ‘What Per Cent Daddy Are You?’ - led him to a quiz at a website he recognised but did not frequent: Buzzfeed.

A page opened, and the first words that greeted him made him close his eyes for a moment.

_Daddy. If the word makes you cringe, you probably shouldn’t be here…_

Stannis grimaced, but pressed on. The quiz wanted his age. He clicked the button that indicated he was ‘40 - 50’. The next question had to do with his job. His actual job title wasn’t available, so Stannis chose ‘lawyer’. He had studied the law, after all. On and on the quiz went, asking about his car, the number of children he had, how many children he wanted, what sort of underwear he preferred, his clothing, his ‘beard game’, his hairstyle, hair colour, body hair, the depth of his voice, whether he was dominant in bed… and eventually…

_If someone called you daddy during sex, what would your reaction be?_

Stannis scanned the choices, feeling his stomach writhe.

1\. I’d lose my erection  
2\. I’d never have sex with that person again  
3\. I’d pretend to love it but secretly hate it  
4\. I would tell them to say it again  
5\. I’d ejaculate

Stannis didn’t think he’d be able to lose his erection with Sansa anywhere near him, and the thought of never having sex with her again caused a sharp, painful sensation in his chest. It was not in his nature to pretend to like anything he didn’t like, and he doubted a single word would ever be enough to make him ejaculate on the spot.

_I would tell them to say it again._

That’s what he would do, wasn’t it? He’d need Sansa to say it a few times to evaluate whether he liked it or not. It was the logical thing to do.

Stannis swallowed and clicked his mouse. Then next question appeared.

_Does the word daddy make you cringe?_

The options were simple: yes, or no.

The word itself was innocuous, he supposed. There was nothing wrong with the _word._ It all came down to what sort of meaning was behind it. If Sansa said it while he was inside her and imagined that he was Ned Stark, it would definitely make him cringe. But if she was just saying it because she thought it was sexy… or because she thought _he_ thought it was sexy...

He clicked no.

He stared at the percentage that appeared, more than a little stunned. _Seventy-five percent?_ That… that couldn’t be right.

Stannis closed the browser and stood up from his desk, feeling the need to start pacing again.

Did Sansa want him to want her to call him daddy during sex? His pulse quickened. Was that why she had brought up the subject of endearments? Now that he thought about it, ‘sweetheart’ was certainly the sort of endearment that a father might use for his daughter. Had she been trying to hint at this ‘daddy kink’?

After a while, Stannis managed to convince himself that this could all be dealt with later. He needed to pack a bag, print out his train tickets, and try to get some sleep. Thankfully he knew not to expect a phone call from Sansa tonight. She had told him that she would be studying to make sure that she would have plenty of time to spend with him during his visit.

For now he just needed to focus on mundane tasks, and definitely not think about ‘Daddy Kink Porn Videos’.

Stannis looked at his laptop. The screensaver was on.

 _Just shut it off,_ he told himself.

He didn’t, though. He left it on as he went about the business of packing, reasoning that he’d need it on to print out his tickets.

Somehow the laptop ended up coming with him to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to take the test yourself, [here is the Buzzfeed quiz.](https://www.buzzfeed.com/benhenry/yes-daddy?utm_term=.prqZ4RyVw#.qkEB0KJpY)


	17. An Experiment

There was something a little different about Stannis today, Sansa noticed. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but whenever their eyes met, she sensed that there was something… tense in the air. And it wasn’t like the sexual tension that had been there during his last visit. There _was_ sexual tension, but there was also something else. Something that made her feel a little nervous.

“Did you do all of your homework?” Stannis asked as they walked to his rental. He was watching her very closely.

“Yes,” she said, feeling rather proud of herself. She had stayed up quite late to finish all the reading she had been supposed to do over the weekend, but it was worth it.

Stannis was still watching her like a hawk. “Good girl,” he said, his voice low.

Heat flooded her cheeks and other places, but she tried to keep a straight face.

Stannis’ eyes darkened as he continued to look at her like the science majors at school looked at their projects.

In the car, Sansa took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. “So, shall we go to the University?” She wanted to show Stannis the main building and the campus, and it would be good for them be out in public. Sansa had also promised Randa that she would bring Stannis by the dorms. She was excited to meet him.

“As you wish,” Stannis said, driving out of the parking lot at a sedate pace.

The feeling that something was different about Stannis did not leave Sansa while they walked around the grounds and the main University building, though she managed to ignore it for the most part as she told Stannis that her father had gone to school here. She had been accepted at Riverrun, too, where her mother had received her education, but she had decided to follow in her father’s footsteps because the Vale’s department of literature was _renowned._ That had definitely been the main reason. Her father had actually smiled at her when she had told him, though, and he’d seemed proud, which had been a nice side benefit. Sansa didn’t tell Stannis that part.

Stannis paid close attention to everything she said, his eyes boring into her as she spoke.

“The dorms are just over there, do you want to see my room?”

“Will it be empty?” Stannis asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sansa blushed. “No, Randa will be there. She really wants to meet you.”

She wasn’t sure how to read Stannis’ reaction. He wore a mild frown, but that was basically a blank expression for him. He seemed willing enough to go with her, however. Sansa chattered about her classes as they walked, nervously filling the silence. She avoided any mention of Professor Baelish. Whenever she mentioned him when she talked to Stannis on the phone, Stannis would start grinding his teeth.

It was a relief to make it to the dorm room she shared with Randa. Randa was effusive and cheerful, and somehow the atmosphere was never tense around her.

“Well hello, tall, dark, and brooding! It’s so great to finally meet you, sir,” Randa said, practically bouncing over to greet Stannis. “Sansa has told me so much about you, though she failed to mention the Brontë leading man vibe.”

Sansa widened her eyes at Randa, silently ordering her to shut up. Randa pretended not to notice.

Stannis shook Randa’s hand very formally, a grimace replacing the mild frown. “Miss Royce, I presume?”

Sansa hurriedly made the appropriate introductions. Randa gave Stannis permission to use her first name, but Stannis did not reciprocate the offer, or take her up on it. He wasn’t precisely _rude,_ but he didn’t project much warmth.

Randa gave Sansa a dubious look when Stannis’ back was turned, and Sansa tried to communicate that they’d have to talk later.

“I know you must be dying to go tear the clothes off each other, so don’t let me keep you,” Randa said, tucking the dubious expression away and giving them a lascivious wink. “Have fun you, two. If you’re going to go for something adventurous, don’t forget the lube.”

Sansa bit back a slightly hysterical laugh and nudged Stannis so that he would follow her out of the dorm room. Stannis did not look amused.

“I’m sorry about her,” Sansa said as she led the way to a café that always served decent food, “she’s a little over the top.”

“A little?” Stannis raised a brow.

“Okay, a lot. But she means well.”

Stannis hummed noncommittally. “She reminds me of Robert.”

Sansa had mixed feelings about that. If she had never seen Robert hit Cersei, the comparison probably wouldn’t have bothered her. The thought had even crossed her mind. On the surface Robert and Randa were quite similar, after all: loud, brash, unapologetic about their appetites. And Sansa quite liked the idea that she was having a similar experience at University as her father had had in his day; her father and Robert had met when they had both attended school in the Vale. But Sansa wanted to think that Randa was kinder than Robert.

It wasn’t until she and Stannis sat down for lunch that Sansa started to feel properly at ease. Stannis was no longer staring at her like he wished he had her under a microscope, and they had a pretty normal conversation as they ate. Maybe she had just been imagining things earlier?

Unfortunately, the pleasant mood was disrupted before she’d really had a chance to enjoy it. Professor Baelish came into the café where she and Stannis were still sitting and lingering over their tea, and he made a beeline for her.

“Miss Stark,” he said, ignoring Stannis. “How are you?”

Sansa forced herself to smile. “I’m good, thank you. How are you?”

“Just fine. How is your reading coming along?” Professor Baelish still hadn’t spared Stannis a glance.

“Oh, you know. I’m plodding along. This is Stannis Baratheon, by the way, he’s my…” Sansa faltered. They hadn’t had the boyfriend-girlfriend discussion. “We’re dating,” she finished, glancing at Stannis. He wasn’t looking at her. He was glaring at the professor.

Professor Baelish raised both eyebrows, looked at Stannis, and took a small step back. “I - I see,” he said, momentarily put off balance. He regained his composure quickly, however. “You must have so much in common,” he said smoothly, a sardonic smile appearing on his lips as his gaze lingered on Stannis’ receding hairline.

“We do,” Sansa said firmly, forcing her smile to widen. “Was there anything you needed, Professor?”

“Not at all,” Professor Baelish said, looking at Stannis more than at her. They seemed to be communicating silently with their eyes. “I’ll just be going. Have a pleasant day.”

Stannis watched as the professor walked towards the exit, but said nothing. Sansa braced herself, knowing that Stannis wouldn’t remain silent much longer.

“Does he bother you often like this? Outside of class?” Stannis asked as soon as Professor Baelish was gone, his tone sharp.

“No,” Sansa said, shaking her head and playing with her teacup. “He approaches me sometimes on campus, but I’ve never seen him outside of school before today.”

Stannis looked highly displeased. “I really think you should drop his class,” he said, scowling.

Sansa blew out a loud breath. “You worry too much,” she said. “He’s a little weird, and he does make me uncomfortable sometimes, but he’s harmless. Honestly.”

“That’s probably just what he wants everyone to believe,” Stannis muttered, still scowling. “I stand by what I’ve said before. You should trust your instincts about him.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s a highly respected professor at an even more respected University. Do you really think he’d be teaching if he were some sort of pervert?”

Stannis met her eyes resolutely. “Yes.”

“He knew my mother,” Sansa said, frowning at him. “He’s just being friendly.”

“He did not react to my presence like a friend would have,” Stannis said, his eyes narrowing.

“How did he react, then?”

“As if he considered me a rival,” Stannis said, crossing his arms.

Sansa sighed. “Well you can’t be his rival if you’ve already won,” she said, hoping to end the conversation.

Stannis’ eyes darkened at that, and the strange feeling that had been bugging her since she met him at the train station flooded her system again. _I’m not imagining things._

“Why don’t we go to the inn?” Stannis suggested. “I need to put my things away.”

Knowing that he probably meant to do something more than put his things away, Sansa nodded. Hopefully they’d be able to talk before they got… distracted. She wanted to know what was causing the tension she was sensing.

Sansa made sure to studiously ignore the receptionist as Stannis checked in. It was the same lady as last time, and Sansa wasn’t in the mood for raised eyebrows. Unfortunately she couldn’t quite close her ears to the tone of voice the woman used as she handed Stannis his key. Sansa swore she could _hear_ the raised eyebrow.

The tense energy around Stannis distracted her from her embarrassment almost as soon as they left the reception area. It was rolling off him in waves, and Sansa really didn’t know how to react to it. Part of her was aroused, part of her was nervous, and part of her was just _confused._

Stannis started kissing her before the door of his room was properly closed. She almost forgot all about wanting to talk to him because it felt incredible. He was eager, but not so forceful as to leave her bruised, and his tongue teased her lips apart in no time. She had missed the heated way he kissed her, and she had missed the way his hands felt on her body, and she had _definitely_ missed touching and kissing him in return. He was so tall and hot and _hard._ When he pressed her against the door, causing it to click shut, she moaned at the feel of a familiar bulge beneath his belt. He ground up against her as their tongues tangled together, and she angled her hips to welcome him and try to get him to rub up against the right place, practically melting with arousal already. 

Sansa would probably have let him take her right there against the door, but after a very enjoyable couple of minutes he released her, and they stumbled towards the bed.

“Wait,” she gasped out, coming to her senses when he started to tug at the buttons that held her shirt dress closed. They were still standing, and Sansa had remembered that she really wanted to talk to him before they went all horizontal. “I - I want to ask you something.”

Stannis looked at her, his eyes a little unfocused. “What do you want to ask about?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Sansa said, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “It’s just - you seem different. Is something on your mind?”

“Now is not the time,” Stannis said, sounding both impatient and authoritative. “Take it off.”

His tone brooked no argument, and all thought of conversation fled her mind. She was getting more turned on by the second, and watching his eyes linger on her as she undressed was about the only thing she could concentrate on at the moment. They filled with more and more hunger as she revealed more and more skin, her fingers trembling with excitement as she undid the row of buttons all along the front of her dress. Her breath hitched in her throat when she dropped the dress to the floor and stood before him in nothing but her lingerie and a pair of strappy sandals. The lingerie was new: powder blue with white ribbons and bows. Very Marie Antoinette.

Stannis reached out to touch the bow that was nestled between her breasts. He swallowed. “On the bed,” he said hoarsely, retracting his hand in order to busy himself with his jacket, his tie and his shirt buttons.

She closed her eyes and squeezed her thighs together briefly at the sound of his voice, but then hurriedly did as he asked. Her heart was pounding against her ribs as she got on her back, and her eyes were fixed on his hands. He was already done with this shirt, and they were going to his belt buckle now. She squeezed her thighs together again as he quickly unbuckled it and pulled the belt free of its loops, dropping it to the floor. There was a loud clink.

He climbed on top of her. “What should I do with you?” he whispered into her ear, one hand roaming from a beribboned breast down to her soaked panties.

“Please,” she whimpered, pushing herself against his hand. “ _Please._ ”

Stannis kissed her, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth and then sucking on her lower lip, and Sansa was just about to gather her wits and return the kiss when he broke it. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck and over her cleavage. He paused to tug at a few of the white ribbons with his teeth, and he kissed her nipples through the fabric. Before she had a chance to rip her stupid fancy bra off so that she’d be able to feel him properly, he continued down her abdomen, kissing and licking and breathing hot air that made her want to sigh and moan and squirm and _die of pleasure_. By the time he was kissing the insides of her thighs she was whimpering with need. He pulled her panties off, and she eagerly lifted herself up to help him, hoping that he was about to do what she thought he was about to do.

_Yes._

He kissed her right where she needed him to, and soon he was licking between her folds, circling her clit with his tongue, and massaging her thighs with his hands.

Sansa moaned and gasped, helpless against the onslaught of pleasure. “Stannis… _gods..._ ”

His tongue felt wonderful: warm, slippery and relentless. He knew what she liked, and it didn’t take him long at all to bring her to the edge. She waited for him to do that thing where he got a little bit rougher with her and pushed her over the precipice, but he just kept circling steadily. Her body was taut and ready to break, but he just _kept her there._ She wondered if he was waiting for her to beg, and hurriedly started to plead with him, all thoughts of pride flying out the window.

“Stannis, please - please, I need more…”

Nothing she said worked. He didn’t even seem to hear her, and just kept moving his tongue in torturous circles. 

Her body started to twitch. She was so _close._

In the end she couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed his head and ground herself against his mouth, crying out in ecstasy as she finally came.

She slumped after her orgasm had run its course, breathing hard and keeping her eyes closed. She could feel Stannis climb up until he was hovering over her, and she tried to spread her legs wider in response.

“Would you like me to fuck you now, sweetheart?”

She moaned out an affirmative sort of sound, hoping that he wouldn’t mind doing all the work while her body was recovering.

“That’s too bad.” Stannis’ weight was suddenly gone.

Opening her eyes in a bit of a panic, Sansa searched for him. He hadn’t gone far, but he was looking at her in that peculiar way that made her remember why she had wanted to talk to him before they started all this.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

Stannis was lying on his side next to her, _looking_. She wondered if this was how laboratory mice felt.

“You were not very polite just now,” Stannis said in a low, intense voice.

“I wasn’t?” She felt nervous and aroused and very very confused.

“No. In fact, you did not behave like a good girl at all,” he continued, his gaze still so _focused._ “I’m very displeased.”

Her stomach shrank and her heart plummeted. “What? What did I do wrong? I’m sorry.”

It was odd, but even as she panicked, a part of her nearly overheated. In the back of her mind, a coy voice that had been getting louder and louder in her fantasies over the past two weeks whispered, _don’t be mad at me, daddy…_

“Patient, good girls get fucked. Impatient, greedy girls get punished,” Stannis said, each word clearly enunciated and precise.

Her breathing sped up as she tried to wrap her mind around the things he was saying. _Greedy? Impatient?_ Was this because she grabbed his head to help herself orgasm? And did he say he was going to punish her? _Oh, gods._

She swallowed. “What sort of punishment?” _Please, I need to be punished…_

“What sort of punishment do you think you deserve, sweetheart?” He arched a brow.

Her face burning, and her arousal rekindling so powerfully that it made her squirm involuntarily, she averted her eyes. She wanted to suggest something _normal._ Something like going down on him. But her memory was flooding with the way it had felt when he had given her ass that one smack, and the words were out before she could help herself. “A spanking?”

Stannis said nothing. He just got up from bed, and pulled out one of the chairs in the room out from under the table. He was still wearing his trousers, though the belt was gone, and his shirt was open and unbuttoned, revealing his bare chest. Once he was settled on the chair, he gave her a pointed look. “I’m waiting.”

She was naked except for her bra, but she did not pause to take it off. She hurried over to Stannis and carefully bent over his lap, trying not to hyperventilate. She wanted this more than she could explain - or even properly comprehend - but she felt jumpy and nervous, too. Did Stannis want this as much as she did? Or was he just following her lead? What was he thinking about?

When she was in position, Stannis stroked her ass with one hand and her face with the other. His thumb traced the outline of her lips, and Sansa kissed it. He made a pleased noise, so she did it again. Somehow she ended up with his thumb in her mouth after that, sucking on it. It tasted nondescript. Maybe a little salty. But it wasn’t the taste she focused on. She focused on how soothing it was… how calming. She wasn’t sure there was anything he could have said that would have reassured her the same way.

The first smack that landed on her ass was gentle. Experimental. The next was a little harder. The fleshy slapping sound was very loud in the quiet room.

 _Gods... Is this actually happening?_ Was she really bent over a man’s knee, getting _spanked?_

“Now be careful that you don’t bite,” Stannis said, his voice husky, “and keep sucking.”

In her mind, his voice went on, sending chills down her spine. _Keep sucking on daddy’s thumb like a good girl…_

He started to spank her in earnest after that, and though none of the blows could really be said to _hurt,_ her ass certainly started to sting a bit after a while. She made sure to keep sucking on his thumb, however, though sometimes she moaned around the digit, too. He didn’t seem to mind. She could feel his erection pressing into her belly, and hear his increasingly laboured breathing, and she was so relieved that he was getting off on this, too. She had been wet after what he’d done with his mouth, but that was nothing compared to how wet she was now; she could actually feel it trickling out of her.

He slowed down. There was a loud _smack._ “That’s it sweetheart.” Another smack. “You know you deserve this.” 

She licked his thumb inside her mouth and sucked a little harder.

Stannis stroked her ass and then gave it a few slightly lighter smacks. “You’re doing very well.”

She couldn’t help herself. She moaned louder than ever and arched her back a little.

“Do you feel like you’ve been punished enough?” Stannis asked after a while, a light smack following every other word.

Sansa squirmed on his lap. Moisture coated her inner thighs; she was _uncomfortably_ wet. She moaned an affirmative noise around his thumb.

He removed his hand from her face, freeing her mouth. “What was that?”

“Yes,” she said.

His hand came down harder on her sensitive ass, causing an involuntary whimper to escape her.

“Are you ready to be a good girl?”

_Yes, daddy…_

“Well?”

Sansa realised that she had neglected to speak out loud. The boundary between fantasy and reality was getting too blurry. “Yes, yes!” she hurriedly said, trying to make up for not speaking more quickly.

He spanked each buttock gently before sliding his hand between them, down to her soaked folds.

Sansa almost cried out with pleasure, and her entire body tensed and arched involuntarily. She couldn’t help but try to chase his hand and increase the pressure.

He took his hand away and spanked her hard, the smack resounding loudly in her ears.

“I think you’re still being an impatient, greedy girl.”

“Please, Stannis,” she whimpered, “I’ll be good, I swear -”

“You know what I think?” Stannis said, every inch the firm disciplinarian. “I think I will have you suck my cock, sweetheart. And I think I will have you do it with your thighs spread at least five inches apart. And I will need to see or feel your hands on me at all times.”

Sansa squirmed again, unable to stand it. She needed him to fuck her. She was aching and empty and utterly beside herself with raw _need._ She needed to be _filled._ “Daddy, _please,_ ” she moaned. She’d go mad if she had to go down on him without even the tiny bit of relief that squeezing her thighs together could bring her.

“If you’re a very good girl it won’t take long,” Stannis said, swatting her ass one last time and then helping her off his lap.

She pouted at him, unashamedly trying to use her best puppy eyes to her advantage.

“On your knees,” he said, impervious to her silent, wide-eyed pleading.

She got on her knees, still pouting. The floor was uncomfortable, but she didn’t think Stannis would look kindly on any complaints or requests for pillows. This was a punishment, after all.

“Spread your thighs,” Stannis reminded her sternly.

Doing as she was told had never been this hard, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. If she did a good job of pleasing him he might cut this punishment short and take her to bed. Full of determination, she set to work.

“That’s it,” Stannis murmured as she started to fondle his balls and lick the shaft of his cock, getting it slippery with her saliva. “Very good....”

She spent a little while gripping the base and sucking the head, moving her hand slowly up and down even as she continued to massage his sack. It was tempting to start bobbing her head and going all in, but she knew she needed to work up to that. She had done this often enough to know how he liked it.

 _Don’t think about that,_ she told herself, suppressing a moan of arousal. Thinking about everything they had done on Dragonstone would not make things easier on her. It would only make her want to touch herself like she had done when she had given him that second blowjob in the en suite… when he’d first _talked_ to her as she pleasured him...

“A little deeper now,” Stannis rasped, burying his hand in her hair and encouraging her movements.

She did her best, but she could only take him so deep before she started to gag.

They found a rhythm that worked after a bit of experimentation. She’d take him as deep as she could, hold him steady for a few seconds, and then come up for air. She knew just how to breathe through her nose so that she could keep the head of his cock in her mouth as she filled her lungs, and after a few attempts, she started to flick her tongue, licking the sensitive underside of head as she breathed.

“Fuck…” Stannis groaned after a while, his grip on her hair tightening a little. “That’s perfect…”

The praise and the sexually charged sound of his voice made her want to cry. She needed him so _much._ Straining her neck, she tried to meet his eyes. He had his eyes closed at first, but soon he opened them and looked down at her.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice husky and deep, “you’re in a state, aren’t you?”

She moaned around his cock, and he closed his eyes again for a brief moment as she did it.

“Why don’t you come sit on my lap?” he offered, his eyes smoldering as he opened them.

Sansa doubted she had ever moved more quickly. She straddled him chest to chest, kissing him gratefully as she scrambled to line his cock up with her entrance so that she’d be able to sink down on him.

The sound that erupted from her throat as his cock split her open, dragging against her insides and creating the most glorious friction, was raw, animalistic, and completely wild.

“Is that what you needed, sweetheart?” Stannis asked her, his voice rough now. _Did you need daddy’s cock?_

“Yes,” she managed, half moaning, half whimpering. Everything was pulsing. It felt so good to be full. _Finally._

Stannis put his hands on her ass, and Sansa ignored the way it stung a little to be groped there. She didn’t care. He was using his hands to help her move, and she really really _really_ needed to move.

Guiltily recalling the innocent childhood game she had used to play with Uncle Brynden, she tried to get Stannis to bounce her up and down. It sort of worked. He did half the work, and she held on to his shoulders and did the other half. For a while it was good enough to satisfy the need that had built up within her.

“Please, I need more,” she eventually begged, hoping that he wouldn’t make her stop and start going down on him again for being greedy.

Stannis tightened his grip on her sore ass and muttered, “hold on.”

She gasped in surprise when he suddenly stood up, and hurriedly wrapped her legs around him, squeezing him between her thighs to keep them connected.

Instead of depositing them on the bed like Sansa expected, Stannis took the two steps he needed to take to get them over to the window. The glass felt incredibly cold against the fevered skin of her back, and she gasped again.

“I’m going to have to fuck you quite hard,” he said, his breath hot in her ear. “Otherwise I’ll drop you.”

Sansa didn’t think there was anything Stannis could do that would be uncomfortable for her right now. She was wetter than she had realised it was even possible to get without using something that got sold in luridly labeled bottles, so she knew that whatever he did would feel good.

She made an incoherent noise of assent, and Stannis immediately started to ram himself into her in short, brutal strokes, pinning her against the window with his bulk.

If Sansa had been in her right mind she probably would wondered whether Gendry would approve of this sort of exercise for Stannis, and she might also have thought to be relieved that the window faced a direction that made it impossible for anyone to see them, but she wasn’t. All she thought about was how she wished he’d angle his cock a little further to the -

_There._

She cried out as she came, a wordless wail that might have rattled the windowpanes if they weren’t being rattled quite thoroughly already.

Sansa was barely able to cling on when Stannis moved her to the bed after that, still hard inside her, but on the brink of his orgasm if the way he was panting was any indication. He pumped into her a few times - their legs not quite on the bed along with the rest of their bodies - and came with a grunt that made her toes curl.

She _loved_ the sounds he made.

They managed to move themselves properly onto the bed, but after that Sansa was too exhausted to do anything. She needed a short nap.

As she was about to drift off, her brain poked her with the sort of realisation that, were she in a movie, would have made her sit up and hit her head on something. She just stopped breathing instead.

_I called him daddy. Out loud._

Her heart raced for a moment, and a nest of snakes started doing the conga in her stomach. But then she realised -

_He didn’t react to it. He didn’t say anything about it. Maybe he didn’t notice?_

She swallowed. Did she dare believe that? She really doubted that this was the sort of thing a man could really manage not to notice. No matter how distracted.

“Stannis?” she whispered, mortification making her face unnaturally warm.

“Mm?”

“I didn’t mean to call you… what I called you.”

Stannis shifted and looked at her. She hurriedly closed her eyes. She couldn’t face him. This was too embarrassing.

“Are you sure?” His tone was gentle. “You nearly called me the same thing last time, too.”

Her eyes flew open, and she felt herself blush more hotly. _He noticed last time?_ “What?”

“Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern.”

She stared at him, trying to figure out whether he thought she was disgusting. His poker face was a little too good.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Stannis looked confused at that. “It’s nothing you must apologise for,” he said slowly, “I did some research, and -”

“You did what?” she yelped, her stomach shrinking down to nothing.

Stannis gave her a slightly sheepish look. It looked very odd on him given everything they had just done. “I did some research. I thought I would attempt to understand the appeal of this…” Stannis waved his hand vaguely, apparently at a loss for words, “... game.”

Suddenly the way he had looked at her like a science major earlier made sense. He _had_ been studying her -- trying to make sense of her.

“You don’t think it’s,” Sansa hesitated, biting her lip, “weird?”

“I worried at first that you were genuinely confusing me with Ned, but from what I’ve gathered, that’s not what this is about. Correct?”

“Yes,” she hurried to say, “I definitely don’t think you’re Dad.”

“In that case, I don’t have a problem with it,” Stannis said. “If it’s something you enjoy, that is.”

Sansa stared at him and wondered how he could act so calm and matter-of-fact about all of this.

“Mostly it just seems to be a version of a fairly common sexual game where one party is the more dominant, and the other more submissive,” Stannis went on, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Although I hope you’re not interested in being put in a diaper. I saw some pictures that were really very -”

“Please stop talking,” Sansa said, feeling a little as if she might combust from embarrassment at any second. “No diapers. Ever.”

Stannis frowned at her. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“I’m embarrassed,” she said, hiding her face. “I didn’t mean for you to find out about… you know.”

“But you enjoyed yourself?” Stannis asked, his tone more urgent than before. “I didn’t take it too far? When you suggested a corporeal punishment I was a bit concerned that -”

She looked up from her pillow and cut him off before he could say anything mortifying about spankings. “It was amazing,” she admitted, meeting his eyes. “Definitely not too far.”

He looked relieved, and they were silent for a minute. Embarrassment started to give way to curiosity, and soon Sansa worked up the courage to ask him a question of considerable importance.

“Did you like it?”

Stannis blinked at her. “Which part?”

Sansa wanted him to give her a detailed account of every single little thing that he had liked, but she realised that might be asking a bit much. “What I called you,” she whispered, feeling like that might be the most important thing.

“I’m not entirely certain,” Stannis said seriously. “I think you’ll have to say it a few more times.”

She wasn’t sure whether he was teasing her or not, but she had a feeling that he was being just as serious as he looked.

“And the… punishing?” she asked, unable to help herself. She needed to know.

His face coloured slightly. “I confess I enjoyed it more than I expected.”

Somehow his embarrassment helped Sansa feel more at ease. “Control freak,” she said, poking him and smiling. 

Stannis raised a brow. “Careful, sweetheart.” 

A shiver passed through her, and she cuddled closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her in return. Several long minutes went by in silence, until Stannis broke it by whispering in her ear. 

“I enjoyed every second of what we did, Sansa. You were perfect. You _are_ perfect.”

Warmth spread from her chest to the tips of her fingers and her toes, and she hummed out a sound of contentment. She could happily imagine staying with him, just like this, listening to him say things like that, for the rest of her life.

She drifted off with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here is the gif](http://sarahtheblack.tumblr.com/post/159748486798) Tommy sent me that inspired like the entire second half of this story.


	18. Romance

Stannis watched Sansa sleep and thought about the conversation they’d had before she went out like a light.

He felt a little guilty about the way he had answered her question about whether he had liked it when she had called him daddy. He had told her the truth for the most part. He _did_ want to hear her say it again, after all. But he had made it sound like he didn’t quite know if he had enjoyed it or not, and that had not been accurate.

Hearing her call him that had been strangely satisfying in a way that he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t entirely sure if it had been the word itself, or more the way she had said it and the roles she had cast them in. Perhaps it didn’t speak very well of his character, but he had liked how innocent and needy it had made her sound… how _trusting._

She had put herself entirely in his hands, surrendering so much of her power so willingly, and he had revelled in being able to take control.

_”Control freak.”_

Stannis had always liked things done a certain way, and he would not apologise for it. In his mind, everyone had a role to play, and it was only right that people should accept this and do their duty. He always tried to play his part, even when it was difficult. Even when it seemed unfair. He had no patience for people who made excuses and tried to get away with taking the easy road out of laziness.

If that made him a control freak, so be it.

In life it frustrated him endlessly how many people did not seem to understand their place, but he had never figured out a way to fix it. According to Davos, there wasn’t much to be done. But in bed with Sansa it was all so simple. He was in charge, and she played her part perfectly. Stannis wondered whether she had any idea that the release she was giving him wasn’t just sexual. Did she know that since their weekend together two weeks ago, he had felt more relaxed than he could ever remember feeling? Things that had used to get on his last nerve just didn’t seem as irritating anymore. He no longer felt frustrated about things that were out of his control.

Perhaps he should tell her.

Stannis wasn’t sleepy, so he got out of bed and walked over to the window. It would need to be cleaned; the glass where Sansa’s back had been pressed against it was all smudged, and there were… hand prints. And other kinds of prints. As he examined the evidence of their exploits, his back sent him a disgruntled complaint which he ignored. Fucking her like that had been worth a little back pain. Thankfully, the leg that had been broken was not causing him any significant trouble. Physical therapy was certainly paying off.

He gazed out over the little University town in the distance, wondering how their relationship would progress after this.

_“This is Stannis Baratheon, he’s my…”_

Boyfriend? Had she wanted to say that do that vile professor of hers? Davos had referred to Sansa as Stannis’ girlfriend. Upon reflection he rather liked it.

But perhaps she wanted something different? He had stayed up half the night reading articles, watching pornographic videos, looking at pictures, and generally trying to make sense of a world he had barely been peripherally aware of before last night. It seemed to him that some couples seemed to stay in character all the time, defining themselves more as ‘Daddy’ and ‘Little Girl’ then boyfriend and girlfriend. Or was that simply a misunderstanding on his part? Porn wasn’t exactly reliable when it came to these things.

He didn’t think he wanted to go quite that far. Sansa was a fascinating young woman with much to offer, and he enjoyed conversing with her like an equal. He’d like to be able to take her to dinner, or spend time with her like he had on Dragonstone, watching films and enjoying her company, without there being a sexual component present at all times.

Romance. Romance was what he wanted, not just sex.

He dwelled on it for a while, trying to keep quiet so that he wouldn’t disturb Sansa’s sleep, and eventually he came to the conclusion that she definitely wanted romance, too. Why else would she have reacted so negatively to the idea of him objectifying her? He had almost ruined his chances with her back when he had failed to make her understand that he thought of her as a person.

Stannis nodded to himself, feeling as if he were making progress. Perhaps he would bring the subject up at dinner? Ask her whether she would consider being his girlfriend? His stomach did a little flip at the thought.

 _Am I reaching too high?_ Should he be content with what Sansa was willing to give him, while she was willing to give it?

He walked over to his unopened overnight bag and unzipped it, searching an inner pocket for the box he had placed inside last night. Checking to make sure Sansa was still asleep, he opened the box and examined the necklace within. He had seen it in a jeweller's window a few days ago, and it had made him think of Sansa. The teardrop sapphire matched the colour of her eyes, and the diamonds surrounding it sparkled like her personality. He had bought it without thinking, but he was glad he had. It would be appropriate to present her with a gift if she agreed to be his girlfriend, wouldn’t it? Or would it come off as an attempt to bribe her for her affection?

 _I’ll give it to her whether she agrees or not,_ he promised himself. It wasn’t as if there was any other woman he would rather give the necklace to, and he was hardly going to wear it.

Stannis closed the box and stowed it away, finding his phone instead. He wanted to make dinner reservations.

Hopefully Sansa’s stalker of a professor wouldn’t show up at the restaurant, too. Although if he did, Stannis would be happy enough to have _words_ with him. Stannis understood that Sansa believed the man to be mostly harmless, but Stannis wasn’t entirely convinced. There had been a covetous gleam in her professor’s eyes when he had looked at her, and irritation and a flash of jealousy when he had looked at Stannis.

Stannis really wished Sansa would listen to him and drop the man’s class. He didn’t like the idea that such an individual was in a position of power over her. He knew that Sansa’s grades mattered to her a great deal, and even though it was probably a little paranoid, Stannis did not want her to take the risk of being placed in a situation where she might be pressed to do something illicit in return for a fair grade.

His stomach did a little somersault at the thought, a memory of a fantasy he’d once had rising to the surface of his mind. Something to do with Sansa handing in her algebra homework to him and not wearing underwear while she did it…

 _That was a stupid fantasy,_ he thought, trying to push his feelings of discomfort away. Stannis wasn’t her teacher. He had no power over her except the power Sansa _chose_ to give him. 

_And it all comes down to power, doesn’t it?_

Those who were given power had a duty to wield it responsibly, and Stannis had a very strong feeling that Professor Baelish was not the sort of man who could do that.

Dinner reservations made, Stannis dropped his phone and walked over to the bed. Though Sansa was disheveled and naked - aside from the pretty bra - and appeared rather thoroughly debauched on the whole, Stannis couldn’t help but think her face looked remarkably young and defenseless in her sleep. No fine lines marred her pale skin, and it looked soft and healthy -- unblemished and smooth. Her pink lips were a little parted, and her eyelashes, darkened with carefully applied mascara, cast little shadows on the skin beneath her eyes. 

It was humbling to know how much she trusted him. How willing she was to give him power over her, and place herself at his mercy.

 _Despite her misgivings, she trusts her professor, too,_ he thought, clenching his jaw. Somehow he had to convince her that when it came to Baelish her trust was misplaced. He had to put her on her guard.

It was his duty to protect her.

***

Sansa was glad she had convinced Stannis to let her go to her dorm room an get changed before they went to the restaurant. She only wished she’d had the chance to shower, too. Her thighs still felt a tiny bit sticky, and it just didn’t seem appropriate to go to the fanciest restaurant in the Vale with the scent of sex still clinging to her every pore. Hopefully the perfume she had hurriedly sprayed on was masking it.

The tension from before was gone, but Stannis still seemed very... focused. He kept looking at her in a way that made her feel like she was the only woman in the room, and she doubted anyone had ever listened as intently as she explained why she never ate scallops. There had been a buffet on her third date with Harry, and then there had been blue cocktails, alcohol poisoning, and blue vomit with bits of scallop floating around. It had been the worst hangover she had ever suffered.

“... but at least it wasn’t food poisoning,” she finished, taking a sip of her water.

“Alcohol poisoning isn’t much better,” Stannis pointed out.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Sansa said, ducking her head for a moment. “Randa once drank so much tequila that she had to have her stomach pumped. At least I just threw up a couple of times. Most people don’t even call that alcohol poisoning. They just call it Saturday night.”

“Do you call it ‘Saturday night’?” he asked, staring her straight in the eyes.

She swallowed. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to how heady Stannis’ full attention felt. “No. I try not to overindulge. Most of the time when I go to parties I don’t even drink the free beer. I prefer wine.”

“That’s very responsible of you,” Stannis said, a note of approval in his voice.

Sansa sat up a little straighter and smiled at him, enjoying the warm feeling the filled her chest.

“Speaking of being responsible…” Stannis hesitated, and looked uncertain for a moment. But before Sansa could say anything, his eyes filled with determination, and he went on. “I think you should be careful when it comes to that Professor Baelish person. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Sansa didn’t much like it either, but what did Stannis expect her to do? He was her _professor._ She couldn’t just ignore him if he came up to her and struck up a conversation. It would be rude.

“Promise me you won’t ever go anywhere with him alone,” Stannis said, his eyes piercing in their intensity. “I don’t mean to imply that it’s in your hands to prevent him from doing anything… unsavoury, but it would put my mind at ease if I knew you were on your guard.”

She doubted she would ever have a reason to be alone with Professor Baelish, and she really didn’t think he would ever do anything to her - other than give her looks that made her uncomfortable and strike up awkward conversations, perhaps - so she decided to agree. It seemed as if it would make Stannis feel better. 

“I promise.”

Stannis nodded once, and the look of determination faded away to be replaced by something much gentler. It seemed as if he might lean over the table and kiss her, and Sansa hoped he would.

Unfortunately, their first course arrived, disrupting the moment.

The conversation flowed easily as they ate the delicious food they had ordered, though they both steered clear of the subject of sex. It was too private for such a public setting, and anyway, Sansa wasn’t sure there was anything left to discuss about the matter of a certain kink she might or might not have. They had agreed that they had both liked everything they had done, and it had been implied that they might experiment a bit more in the future. What else could they really say? Instead they just chatted. A lot of the time they were just picking up where they had left off when they had talked on the phone or even since they had been together on Dragonstone, and Sansa was left with the feeling that they had known each other for much longer than they actually had.

When dessert was served - a frothy sort of berry mousse - Stannis started to look tense again.

“Everything okay?” she asked, shooting him a quick smile before filling her mouth with more deliciousness.

“I want to ask you something,” Stannis said, getting straight to the point. He actually looked a little nervous rather than tense.

She put her spoon down and gave him her full attention.

“We’ve been dating for a while now, and I - I think it’s time to take the next step.”

For wild second she wondered if he was about to propose. _Don’t be crazy,_ she told herself. “The next step?”

“Yes. I’d - I’d very much like it if you would agree to be my girlfriend, Sansa.”

She broke into the widest smile her facial muscles allowed. “I’d _love_ that.”

Stannis’ shoulders relaxed, and he gave her a little smile in return. “Here,” he then said, placing a jewellery box on the table. It wasn’t shaped like a ring box, however, so Sansa’s brain didn’t give her any more crazy ideas. “To mark the occasion.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” Sansa said, an army of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Harry had never given her any jewellery. Well, there had been that plastic ring from a box of cereal, but that didn’t count.

“Just open it,” Stannis said, shifting in his chair a little awkwardly.

It was beautiful. Easily on par with the heirloom pieces her mother owned and sometimes let Sansa look at. She didn’t need to ask whether the sapphire was real or whether the little stones that surrounded it were diamonds.

It was the most generous gift that had ever been offered to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her fingertips ghosting over the sparkling sapphire. “It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to wear it?” Stannis asked, his voice a little huskier than it had been before.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Stannis stood up and planted himself behind her. She held her hair up as he clasped the necklace in place, loving the way his fingers lingered on the back of her neck for a little longer than necessary. He gave her a brief kiss before he returned to his seat, and it made her lips tingle.

Her heart pounded as she finished her dessert, feeling her skin warm the cool pendant where it had settled just above her cleavage. She kept having to stop herself from touching it and playing with it, knowing that it was not ladylike.

Stannis did not take his eyes off her face, though he had a pretty perfect excuse to look at her chest, and she felt herself start to blush after a few minutes of trying to return his gaze.

Needing to distract herself, Sansa glanced around at the nearby tables, wondering for the first time what sort of people she and Stannis were sharing the restaurant with. An older, distinguished looking couple was seated at the nearest table, and the man caught her eye. He leered, so Sansa hurriedly looked at a different table. Four ladies that were probably around her mother’s age quickly looked away when Sansa’s gaze fell on them. Sansa got the distinct feeling they had been staring.

“Don’t mind them,” Stannis said quietly, regaining her attention. There was a sour look on his face that hadn’t been there before.

Sansa tried not to mind them, but she felt uncomfortably like she was on the Dragonstone ferry again, with all those strangers looking at her and Stannis and judging them.

“Maybe we should go back to the inn,” she suggested, trying to push her discomfort away.

“If you like,” Stannis said, catching the eye of a waiter and indicating with a polite gesture that he was ready for the check.

In the car, as they drove back to the inn, Stannis sighed. 

She looked at him and felt a pang of sadness when she saw his troubled expression. “What is it?” she asked, her voice quiet.

He sighed again, and cast her a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road. “There are always going to be people who will look at us and see a lecherous old man and a silly young girl with money on her mind. If you’re having doubts, I won’t hold you to what you just agreed. We can keep things… casual. Or stop seeing each other.”

The idea of stopping made Sansa’s blood run cold. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I don’t care about what strangers think,” she insisted.

Stannis raised an eyebrow at her. He seemed to be trying to look cool and unconcerned, but Sansa could see the wariness in his eyes, and the way he had tensed up -- as if he were bracing himself for rejection.

“Well, I do care a little. But I’m not going to let people who don’t even know us stop me from doing what I want,” Sansa amended, her stubborn streak rising up within her. “And I’m not having doubts. I want to be your girlfriend.”

Stannis swallowed noticeably and nodded, relief plain on his face. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

***

He and Sansa were too full from their extravagant dinner to really get up to much once they made it back to his room at the inn. They flicked inefficiently through the channels on the TV that was mounted on the wall, until Sansa started looking around for some kind of manual for the entertainment system, and found an information booklet about the inn, instead.

Stannis wasn’t paying much attention. He was still working through the shock of his success at the restaurant. _She said yes. She’s my girlfriend now._ It didn’t seem real. It had been much easier to believe that she might back out of the arrangement as soon as she realised how people would view them -- how people would view their relationship. He had tried to do the decent thing and give her an out, but she hadn’t taken it. _She wants to be my girlfriend._

His brain felt pleasantly hazy, and his blood seemed to have been replaced by some sort of fizzy drink. If he didn’t know for a fact that he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol with dinner, he’d suspect that he was intoxicated.

“There’s a spa!” Sansa suddenly exclaimed, her nose buried in the glossy booklet. “You need to call ahead to book treatments, but guests can use the saunas and the hot tubs without making an appointment.”

“Is it open this late?” It was after ten in the evening.

“It’s open until midnight,” Sansa said after a brief search. “Can we go?”

“I didn’t bring any swimwear,” Stannis said, though he was loath to disappoint her. He wanted to please her. He wanted to do anything that would make her happy.

“Me neither.” Sansa shrugged as if that didn’t matter. “It’s okay, we just need towels for the sauna.”

Stannis considered it for a moment, but it wasn’t a very difficult decision. “All right. Why not?”

Sansa beamed at him, and his heart expanded. The feeling of being intoxicated intensified.

There were two old men in the largest hot tub in the spa area, but otherwise it was deserted. Sansa headed straight for the lemon-scented sauna, dragging him along. He was glad when it turned out the sauna was empty except for them. Especially since Sansa gave him a heated look after a little while, and boldly uncovered her breasts. They looked exceptionally soft, perky, and touchable in the comfortable ambiance of the sauna.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” he murmured, enjoying the view immensely but also feeling highly aware that there were two old men nearby who might decide they fancied a trip to the sauna at any moment. She was being remarkably daring.

“It’s hot,” she said, giving him an innocent look.

“It’s a _sauna,_ ” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She giggled, but kept her breasts free. (He noticed that she kept her hand on her towel, however, and suspected that she was ready to cover up at a moment’s notice.)

Stannis closed his eyes and allowed himself a brief fantasy that involved fucking her right there and then, but didn’t act on it. For one thing, they might get caught, and for another, it really was too hot to do much more than lie around. He’d probably have a heat stroke if he attempted any vigorous exercise.

They stayed in there for as long as they could stand, but eventually they gave up. Stannis had to stay a little longer to get rid of the tent in his towel. Thankfully his cock was less stubborn now than it had been when he’d been in his casts, or Stannis would have been stuck in the sauna for a very long time.

They had quick showers and put on some fluffy robes and met each other in a quiet area of the spa where comfortable lounge chairs had been scattered around a fireplace that warmed the room. They settled down, and Stannis’ back thanked him when he put his feet up. The heat of the sauna had helped, but there was still some lingering discomfort in his lower back due to the abuse he had subjected it to in the afternoon.

 _Too old to go to dinner with with Sansa without getting stared at, and too old to fuck her up against windows…_ he thought to himself, feeling decidedly grumpy. Maybe he just needed to add more back and core strengthening exercises to his weight lifting program. … And then miraculously become twenty years younger.

Stannis thought again about the way Sansa hadn’t changed her mind due to the stares they had received at the restaurant. He was still wrapping his mind around the fact that she wanted to stay with him even though people were unlikely to ever look at them without judging them in some way. There were so many sordid preconceived notions about older men that took up with young women, and even more damaging notions about the women who chose to take up with older men. Stannis would know. He had heard people talk about Robert and the girls he had his affairs with often enough.

_At least I’m not married._

“Mmm, I want to stay here forever,” Sansa said, stretching like a cat in a patch of sunlight.

“If it pleases you,” he said, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

“I feel so warm,” she said, looking at him with sleepy eyes.

He felt warm, too.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked after a short silence, reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers.

“How I’d make myself younger if I could,” he said, watching her face carefully for her reaction.

Sansa furrowed her brow. “For me?”

He nodded.

She mulled this over for a moment. “I like you the way you are,” she said, giving him a very earnest look. “I mean… would you like me to be older?”

A part of him really wouldn’t mind if she were ten or twenty years older. Another, slightly less mature part of him rather liked her like this. It made sense, Stannis supposed. That part of his personality was perpetually stuck at eighteen. Of course it would want her to be close to itself in age.

“I would and I wouldn’t,” he said, not wishing to lie. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter. We can’t change the way things are.”

“You like me like this when we’re in bed,” Sansa whispered, making it both a question and a statement.

His arousal from before wasn’t completely gone, and his cock stirred with interest at the sensual tone in her voice. “I like everything about you in bed, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping by at least an octave.

Sansa bit her lip, looked around, and quickly moved from her lounge chair to his, settling herself mostly on top of him. He would have protested, but she cut him off with a kiss. After that he forgot why he had meant to object in the first place.

They kissed passionately for what must have been several minutes, and Stannis was just about to consider worming his hand underneath her robe when Sansa froze.

“Well, hello!” a wheezy voice said near the entrance. “Don’t mind us.” There was a chuckle.

Stannis glared at the two old men who were - unfortunately - no longer in the hot tub, and assisted Sansa when she hurriedly got off him.

“Let’s go,” he said, getting to his feet as soon as Sansa was upright. She nodded, her cheeks glowing red.

By the time they made it to Stannis’ room, Sansa was giggling.

“Did you see the looks on their faces?” she said in between peals. “They thought they were going to get a show!”

Though he was pleased that Sansa had decided to move on from her embarrassment and try to see the humour in the situation instead, he couldn’t really say that he found it very funny.

Stannis did not like to share.

“Come here,” he said, reeling her in for a kiss without waiting for a response. She kissed him back with a great deal of enthusiasm, and wound her arms tightly around his neck.

They somehow made it to the bed, half lying, half sitting down. Still kissing. Their clothes disappeared, article by article, piling up on the floor. They took the time to get each other completely naked, exploring with fingers and lips and tongues as they revealed more and more skin. No words were spoken, though there were sighs and moans, and little gasps.

Pushing inside of her felt a lot like coming home, and Stannis groaned as her cunt gripped him: tight and wet and silky smooth.

He was not in the mood to play games, and it didn’t seem like she wanted anything more than what he was already giving her. Her nails bit into his shoulder blades, scratching hard enough to get his attention, but probably not drawing blood. Her long legs wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways, urging his hips to make deep, slow thrusts.

His orgasm built slowly, and he doubted she was getting to her peak any faster, though he was certain she was enjoying the journey as much as he was. Everything about her, from her flushed skin and her glazed eyes, to her moans and sighs, spoke of pleasure.

After savouring her from their current position for a good long while, Stannis encouraged her to ride him. He wanted to look at her breasts properly, and he wanted to be able to touch them as he had longed to touch them in the sauna.

Sansa ground herself against him as he fondled her breasts and plucked at her nipples, her eyes closed and her head thrown back. He could feel her long hair tickle his thighs every now and then, still a little damp from the sauna and the shower.

He was nearly always able to hold himself back from coming when she did. It usually felt like a very important thing to do -- it established that he was the one who decided when he finished; he was the one in control. Right now it didn’t seem important. He surrendered to her, letting her pull him over the edge with her, enjoying the way she fluttered and milked him dry as they cried out as one.

The release was all the more powerful for being shared.

The were both breathing faster than usual when Sansa let herself collapse into his arms, his cock still half-hard inside her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, and he felt her give him a little kiss.

“That was…” he croaked, trailing off when his words failed him.

“Amazing,” she whispered, clenching up around him and making him wish he weren’t rapidly going limp.

He grunted, still having problems with coherent words.

They lay there, tangled up with each other for a long time. At some point he slipped out of her, but they stayed glued to each other despite the mess that was trickling out of her and onto his thigh.

And then, all at once, the words came.

“The past few weeks have been the best I can remember,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “I want you to know that, Sansa. I want you to know that even when you’re not with me, my days are better because of you. Because of how you make me feel.”

Sansa lifted her head and looked at him, blinking at an alarming rate. “Really?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He wouldn’t have said it otherwise.

She kissed him. First on the mouth, and then all over his face. It made him want to smile.

“I feel the same way,” she said, a little shy, but utterly sincere.

This time he was the one who kissed her, though he focused mainly on her lips.

Much later, right before Stannis fell asleep, his last coherent thought was that he’d just experienced the most wonderful night of his life.


	19. A Kiss

Sansa’s head was in the clouds for days after Stannis’ visit. She barely took notes in class, though she doodled hearts and initials all over her notebooks as if she were twelve.

Something had changed in a good way after she and Stannis had decided to take the next step in their relationship. Sex with him had always been incredibly good, but after their dinner on Saturday night it was as if they were more _connected,_ somehow. And thinking about the lazy, comfortable Sunday they’d had together still brought a smile to her lips. They hadn’t done anything _kinky,_ but Sansa knew they had both enjoyed themselves immensely.

Sansa squeezed her thighs together and wondered whether they’d experiment a bit more next time they met. Though it made her blush, she was really very curious about how Stannis would react if she - like Randa would put it - called him daddy all night long. Would it spur him on like she was fairly sure it would her? She really didn’t know why it turned her on as much as it did. Couldn’t it be that … sometimes certain things just turned people on? There didn’t have to be a _reason._ Randa’s theory about ‘daddy issues’ was definitely not -

“Miss Stark?”

Sansa started and felt her face catch fire. “I’m sorry, Professor. Could you repeat the question?”

“I merely asked if my lecture was boring you,” Professor Baelish said, raising a brow.

“No, sir,” she said, “I was just a little distracted. I’m sorry.”

“Make sure to be more attentive from now on,” Professor Baelish said, inclining his head. “And I’d like a word after class.”

It was incredibly rare for a professor to single a student out in a lecture like this, though some of her teachers did it occasionally. It had never happened to her before. But then, she had never been this bad at paying attention before. She only had herself to blame.

As her classmates were still packing their things and pouring out of the lecture hall, Sansa approached Professor Baelish at his desk. “You wanted a word?”

“Do I need to scold you for daydreaming in my class?” he asked, gazing at her intently.

“No, sir. I won’t do it again.”

“Good. Have you chosen a subject for your final paper?”

Sansa nodded. There would be no final exam in this course. Instead each student was required to hand in a paper before the end of term that would decide the largest percentage of their final grade.

“I’d like to hear all about it,” Professor Baelish said, giving her one of those smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Why don’t you come to my office this afternoon? We can have tea and discuss it properly.”

Warning bells rang inside her mind. _“Promise me you won’t ever go anywhere with him alone.”_

Sansa didn’t know what to do. Wouldn’t she come off as very ungrateful if she denied the professor’s request? He was clearly trying to give her a chance to make up for the fact that she had been so distracted in class, and maybe he would even give her some valuable advice. It might really help her grade… Her instincts told her that this was not a good idea, however, even without Stannis’ voice in her head, cautioning her against trusting Professor Baelish.

 _I’ll agree to go to his office, but I’ll ask Randa to go with me,_ Sansa decided, reasoning that her professor hadn’t explicitly asked her to come alone.

“Three o’clock?” She suggested, hoping that she’d be able to cut this conversation short before the last student left the hall.

His eyes glittered. “I’ll see you then.”

***

“You want me to do what?” Randa was looking at Sansa as if she were crazy.

“Come with me to discuss my paper with Professor Baelish,” Sansa repeated, ignoring the flush of embarrassment that was rising to her cheeks.

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because he makes me uncomfortable and I don’t want to be alone with him.” Sansa crossed her arms. She was determined to have her way.

“Oh, honestly…” Randa rolled her eyes. “I’ll go with you, but I think you’re missing out on a fantastic opportunity.”

Sansa dropped her arms. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you could probably blow him and then hand in a haiku about how great you think his cock is instead of spending gods know how many hours on a final paper, and ace the course.”

“I have a boyfriend, Randa,” Sansa said, grimacing at her friend. “And even if I didn’t, what you’re suggesting is incredibly immoral.”

“Oh, is Mr. Frowny your boyfriend?” Randa said, drawing the last word out obnoxiously. “I hadn’t realised,” she added, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like you’ve told me sixteen million times…”

“You’re exaggerating,” Sansa said primly, pursing her lips at Randa. She had told Randa exactly _once._

“Whatever,” Randa said, blowing out an exasperated breath. “When do you need me to come and hold your hand?”

“Three o’clock.”

***

It was two minutes before three when Sansa and Randa showed up outside of Professor Baelish’s office. There was a brass nameplate on the handsome mahogany door, emblazoned with his name. 

_Professor Petyr Baelish, Ph.D._

Sansa knocked.

Her professor’s voice sounded a little muffled when he called for her to come in, but it was clear enough. She glanced at Randa and opened the door. Randa looked completely bored.

“Ah, Miss Stark, please sit down. … And Miss Royce?” Professor Baelish appeared surprised for a moment before his face became blank.

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked Randa to come with me. We study together all the time, and I thought she might benefit from sitting in on our meeting.”

Professor Baelish nodded, but didn’t offer Randa a seat. “You may stay if you like, Miss Royce, but I highly doubt that this meeting will be of any use to you. You are not taking my class, and we will be discussing Sansa’s ideas for her final paper. Unless you are planning to take this course next term and recycle Miss Stark’s ideas -”

“Of course not,” Randa said, cutting Professor Baelish off indignantly. “I am not a plagiarist.”

Sansa’s stomach dropped. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Do enlighten us, Miss Stark. What did you mean?”

Her words got stuck in her throat for a moment, and she looked at Randa for help. Randa just rolled her eyes. 

“I just meant that I think we’d both benefit from your insights,” Sansa said, swallowing nervously. “I’m sure Randa will be able to apply your advice to her own projects.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Professor Baelish gave Sansa a measured look, his lips quirking as if he had thought of a joke.

Randa huffed, clearly unable to stand quietly for one second longer. “Sansa, Professor Baelish obviously doesn’t think it’s appropriate for me to be here. I’ll wait outside.”

 _Traitor._ Sansa glared at the back of Randa’s head as she left.

“You are a terrible liar, Miss Stark,” Professor Baelish said as soon as the door clicked on Randa’s heels. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you brought your friend along?”

Sansa, still standing, shifted from one foot to the other. She couldn’t just tell him he made her uncomfortable, but nothing else occurred to her.

His expression changed, becoming hurt and bewildered. “Were you worried I’d do something inappropriate?”

She looked at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

Professor Baelish stood up from his desk and came to stand right in front of her. He touched her shoulder for a moment, but dropped his hand as soon as she looked at him.

“Have I done anything to give you the impression that I would harm you?” His eyes were full of concern.

Her heart was pounding furiously, and she couldn’t think what to say. She couldn’t think at all.

“My deepest apologies,” Professor Baelish murmured, “that was never my intention.”

Sansa finally found her voice. “I’m sorry, I suppose I was just being silly.”

He smiled in that disconcerting way of his. “No, no. I understand. A beautiful girl like you has every reason to be careful.”

The complement felt like a false note in the middle of a symphony, and Sansa had to suppress the urge to cringe.

They stared at each other for what felt like a long time, and Sansa felt herself blush in response to the way her professor seemed to be examining every inch of her face in minute detail. It was not unlike the way Stannis sometimes looked at her - like she was a priceless work of exquisite art - but while she always got the sense that Stannis knew she was a living breathing person, she now felt like a marble statue on display in a museum.

Professor Baelish’s eyes had gone from showing a veneer of friendly concern to appearing strangely glazed.

“I never thought I’d meet a more beautiful woman than Catelyn Tully,” he suddenly said, his hand coming up to brush a lock of hair away from her face. His eyes flitted to her lips and lingered there, the far off, glazed look still present. She stopped breathing. Her body felt frozen. “You surpass her in every way,” he whispered, leaning in to touch his lips to hers. 

He smelled like peppermint, and his moustache tickled.

She came back to life with a sharp inhalation and a step back when she felt his tongue press against the seam of her lips.

“I have to go,” she blurted, unable to look at him. 

She bolted.

Randa looked up in surprise when Sansa burst out of the office. She had been leaning against the opposite, wall, looking at her phone.

“Let’s go,” Sansa said. “Now.”

Randa followed her, running a little to catch up with Sansa’s quick, long strides.

“What happened?” Randa asked, breathing fast.

“I’ll tell you in a bit,” Sansa said, focusing all her energy on getting to her dorm room. Getting _away._

Sansa wrung her hands and paced when she and Randa finally got inside their room, feeling cold and numb and shivery.

“Seriously, what happened?” Randa asked, a note of concern in her voice. “Did he want to do it in the butt or something?”

Sansa recognised the attempt to ease the tension with some humour, but she couldn’t laugh. Not now.

“He kissed me,” she said, sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling her knees to her chest protectively.

“What?!” Randa, who had sat down long before Sansa had, shot to her feet. “That bastard!”

Sansa gave her friend a tired look. “Why are you acting so surprised?”

“I know I’ve said all kinds of crap about him lusting after you, but I didn’t _mean_ it!” Randa practically shouted. “I didn’t think he’d _actually_ do anything.” She ran a hand through her hair, looking beside herself. “Gods, I’m so sorry I left you alone with him…”

“It’s not your fault,” Sansa mumbled.

Randa sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Was it gross?” she asked, sounding a little uncertain.

“I ran out before he could put his tongue down my throat,” Sansa said, shuddering at the thought of what might have happened if she had remained frozen in that room.

“You have to report him,” Randa said, “professors aren’t allowed to do stuff like this.”

“I don’t want to cause any problems,” Sansa said hugging her knees tighter. “And I don’t have any proof. You know these things go. It’s my word against his. Remember what everyone said about Lollys after she accused those KLU guys of taking advantage of her when she was passed out at that party? Everyone thought she was lying. They thought she was just trying to ruin that one guy’s football career.”

“But you have to tell someone,” Randa said. “Do you want to call Mr. Frowny?”

Sansa managed a weak giggle. After Randa had met Stannis, she had refused to call him anything but ‘Mr. Frowny’. The brief surge of amusement faded quickly. _He’s is going to be so mad at me…_ She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about it.

“No… not right now. Later.”

There was a short pause.

“If you’re not going to report him, you should at least drop the bastard’s class,” Randa said, squeezing her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to look at him every week.”

“I think the deadline for dropping classes was last week,” Sansa whispered, her stomach tying itself up in knots.

“Fuck the deadline. Talk to the administration staff. Or the student counsellor. There has to be a way.”

“If I drop the class now it will show up as a failed class on my transcript,” Sansa said as she realised it was true. “This is my last year. It’ll ruin my grade point average.”

“It won’t be ruined,” Randa soothed. “It will just be a little lower than you hoped. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

A part of Sansa knew that what Randa was saying was true; the rest of her was convinced that it _was_ the end of the world. She had _never_ failed a class in her life. Not even calculus in high school. Robb and Jon had stayed up late for three nights running to help her pass her final.

“I’m not going to make any decisions about it right now,” Sansa decided, taking a deep steadying breath. “I just… I just want to watch something. Will you watch something with me?”

Randa squeezed her shoulder again. “Of course. Whatever you want. I’ll even split my emergency pint of Ben&Jerry’s with you.”

Sansa knew that Randa guarded her emergency stash of ice cream quite fiercely, so she was touched by the gesture. “Chocolate chip cookie dough?”

“You know it.”

“You’re a good friend,” Sansa said, giving Randa a small smile.

Randa returned the smile. “Hey, I’m a _great_ friend.”

A tiny laugh escaped Sansa, and the cold feeling that had settled in her bones seemed to fade.

***

Stannis looked at the clock for the third time, scowling when it still insisted that it was half past eleven. It was Sansa’s turn to call him, and it wasn’t like her to leave it this late. Had she forgotten? She had never forgotten before… Maybe she had just got the days confused. Maybe she was waiting for him to call?

It was stupid to sit around and stare at the clock in any case. Stannis reached for the phone.

“Stannis?” Sansa’s voice sounded a little confused.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, resisting the urge to start interrogating her.

“No, Randa and I were just watching _Friends_...” There was a short pause. “Oh, my gods! Is it this late already? I was supposed to call you! I’m so sorry, I lost track of time.”

Stannis couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. He counted down the minutes each day until he could hear Sansa’s voice. Was she becoming less interested in him?

“I’m really so sorry,” Sansa continued, sounding genuinely upset. “My head isn’t right today.”

Something about her tone made him sit up straighter in his chair. “It isn’t? Why not?”

There was another pause, longer than the one before. “I - something happened. With Professor Baelish.”

_No._

Stannis inhaled sharply and squeezed his phone so tightly that his newly healed bones complained. He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “What did he do?”

“He - he kissed me. And before you say anything, I tried not be alone with him. I took Randa with me, but he kicked her out. I ran before he did anything more than kiss me. I promise.”

It took Stannis a moment to process what Sansa had said as it all came out in a rush, but as soon as her words registered he felt a wave of rage rise up inside him. 

_That fucking disgusting, vile, snake-faced, smug fucking pervert._ He clenched his jaw for a moment, trying to keep his fury from running away with him. _Cursing Baelish’s name won’t make Sansa feel better right now._ He took a deep breath and tried to think of something _useful_ to say.

“Are you all right?” he asked helplessly. She was so far away… How could he be useful when she was so far away?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sansa said, though she didn’t exactly sound fine. Her voice was much smaller than it usually was. “Randa gave me some of her emergency ice cream.”

“Is there anything I can do?” _Like come over there and murder the bastard for touching you?_

“You’re - you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” He was furious with Baelish, but Sansa had done nothing wrong.

“Because I was alone with him.” She sounded miserable.

He furrowed his brow. “Did you ask him to kiss you?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then I have absolutely no reason to be angry with you.”

He heard her take a few deep breaths, and he thought she sounded relieved.

“Have you decided what your next steps will be?” he asked after a while, trying to make his voice gentle. It was difficult due to all the rage that was making him want to pace around like a caged animal, but Sansa did not deserve his anger. She deserved his support.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, sounding sad and a little broken. “It’s too late to drop his class without it affecting my grade point average, and I don’t think anyone will believe me if I report him. It’s my word against his, and he’ll just say that I’m lying. I have no proof.”

Stannis immediately tried to remember who the Chancellor of the University was, and whether he had any sway with the man. Jon Arryn, wasn’t it? _No, he died a few years back…_ His fury abated somewhat as the seeds of a plan took root.

“I’m going to think about it later,” she added, still sounding heart-wrenchingly sad.

“Do you want me to come up there?” Stannis asked, already halfway out of his chair.

“You were just here a few days ago. I can’t ask you to come again now.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He strode over to his study and opened his laptop, calling up the website for the Westeros train services. There was an advertisement in the corner of the screen, boasting of half price tickets from the Vale to King’s Landing. “You could also visit me,” he blurted out. “I could get you tickets.” _First class,_ he added silently, looking down his nose at the advert for the half price tickets.

“Visit you?” There was a brief silence. “You - you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

A longer silence fell, but Stannis said nothing. He could tell that Sansa was thinking it over.

“It _would_ be nice to get away for a bit,” she said at length, a little hesitant, but clearly tempted.

He knew a yes when he heard one. “I’ll book tickets. When would you like to travel?”

“I have class tomorrow and on Friday morning. Friday afternoon?”

He clicked his mouse a few times. His credit card details were connected to his account, so it didn’t take long to finish the transaction. “Done. I’ll pick you up in King’s Landing. I’ll email you the details.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said, sounding frighteningly like she was on the verge of tears.

“It’s nothing,” he said, hoping that she wouldn’t cry. “You can visit me anytime you wish. Just call and I’ll arrange it.”

“You’re being so nice…” There was a sniffle.

Stannis swallowed. With the tickets booked and the email sent, he had nothing concrete to _do._ He didn’t know what to say to make Sansa feel better, and he wasn’t sure there was anything anyone could say. The trust she had placed in an authority figure had been violated, and she was understandably shaken. He wished he could just wrap his arms around her. That was easier than trying to figure out the right thing to say.

“Are you going to watch more TV with Miss Royce tonight?” he asked awkwardly.

“A couple more episodes maybe,” Sansa said, miraculously sounding a little less weepy. “We’re watching the first season. It’s so cute.”

Stannis had watched a few episodes of Friends with Sansa when they had been on Dragonstone. He hadn’t enjoyed it much. Most of the characters seemed lazy, entitled, spoiled, strange, or otherwise unsympathetic. They only character he had liked was Monica, but none of the other characters had really seemed to appreciate everything she tried to do for the group.

They chatted about the show for a little while, and when Sansa sounded like she was feeling a bit better, he reluctantly told her that he needed to head for bed.

“Good night, Stannis. Thank you so much for calling. I - ” She paused. “Good night.” There was something sweet in her voice that he liked, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what precisely it was.

“Good night, Sansa.”

He sat still for a long time after the call disconnected, feeling a confusing mixture of tender feelings for Sansa, rage at her professor for daring to make an unwanted advance, and helplessness due to the fact that he had been unable to protect her.

It took him a good long while to collect himself, but eventually he felt up to another phone call. Stannis might now know who was currently in charge of things at Vale University, but he knew someone who did.


	20. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating early because I'm not sure I'll have time to do it tomorrow morning.

Stannis greeted her at the King’s Landing train station with a hug. Not the quick sort of hug you give someone when you’re in public and you don’t want to linger and cause a scene. A proper hug. A warm, tight, _long_ hug. He let her bury her nose in the crook of his neck and inhale the familiar, comforting scent of his aftershave. He stroked her hair. He murmured her name.

She had never felt more intensely _cared for._

“How are you?” he asked, his voice low and concerned.

A part of her wanted to weep, another part of her wanted to laugh, and yet another part of her wanted to throw any sense of decorum onto the train tracks and jump up and warp her legs around his waist and hug him with her entire body.

She ended up doing none of those things. Instead she kissed him, making the kiss brief so that she wouldn’t tempt herself too much. “I’m good now that I’m here,” she whispered.

_Now that I’m with you._

“Good.” He kissed her again, and she _felt_ how reluctant he was to stop. “Let’s go.”

Sansa nodded and didn’t try to protest when Stannis insisted on carrying her bag.

On the train she had wondered how she would get through seeing Stannis again and telling him everything that had happened in person without breaking down. Telling him what had happened on the phone wasn’t the same. Having his eyes on her, being able to see whether he was just pretending when he said he wasn’t angry…

Her stomach had been a mess of knots. Anxiety had made itself a cosy nest in her heart.

It was all draining away now. Everything about him told her he wasn’t angry at her. It was impossible to hug someone like he had hugged her, and be angry with them.

_Everything is going to be fine._

Sansa took a deep breath, and the next time Stannis met her eyes, she smiled at him. The lines on his forehead smoothed at that, and he gave her one of his little half-smiles back.

_Everything is going to be perfect._

***

“I feel like I should be fluffing your pillows or something,” Sansa said, her eyes alive with laughter. “Or maybe I should fetch your lunch, Mr. Baratheon?” She dragged his name out, making it sound rather decadent.

It was true that Sansa had mostly been his nurse the last time she had stayed on Dragonstone, but after he had escaped his casts, her role had changed considerably. Still, he understood why she would connect his bedroom with her time as his aide. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, wrapping an arm around her middle to pull her snug against him, securing her in place. Having her in his own bed again was better than he had imagined.

“I’m so glad I came here,” Sansa sighed, settling herself in his arms. She sounded absolutely content. The anxiety she had been wearing like a shroud when he had picked her up on King’s Landing the previous afternoon had melted away. “It’s like going back to the beginning.”

“I’m glad, too,” he said, squeezing her for emphasis. Holding her had always felt good, but now - knowing that she was with him, safe and unhurt, and far far away from predatory teachers - it felt satisfying in a whole new way. With her near him, he felt like he was being _useful._ Last night he had been able to comfort her, listen to her, and do nearly everything he had wanted to do for her when she had first told him what happened. He had helped make her _smile_ , and it felt so good to see how much better she was feeling.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back tomorrow,” Sansa mumbled.

He frowned. “You don’t have to. You can stay here as long as you like.”

Sansa twisted around and kissed him. “Thank you, but I have classes. I need to keep up with my studies.”

He hummed, and ignored the temptation to press her about the decision she needed to make about Professor Baelish’s class. Now was not the time -- for more than one reason. “Responsible girl…”

“One of us has to be responsible,” she said pertly.

“What are you implying?” he asked, deliberately deepening his voice. 

She giggled. “Only that I don’t know if you’d ever get any work done again if I stayed.”

Stannis nibbled on her neck and sucked on the tender flesh, marking her and enjoying the way she wriggled and squealed in delight. “I’ll have you know that I take my work very seriously.”

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring all your emails since I got here?” Sansa asked, her tone innocent.

He grimaced at the reminder. He’d left the office early yesterday afternoon to pick her up at the train station, leaving Davos to reschedule a few meetings and sort out whatever chaos that would inevitably ensue. Stannis hadn’t wanted to be bothered last night, so he’d put his phone on vibrate so that its incessant pinging wouldn’t upset the soothing mood he had tried to create for Sansa.

“Do you want me to work?” he asked, not entirely sure why she was bringing this up.

She bit her lip and shrugged. “Maybe.”

He looked at her in confusion. “I could go and answer some emails in my study, I suppose.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to go to the office?” Sansa asked, her face turning a little pink.

Thoroughly befuddled now, Stannis said nothing, but furrowed his brow.

“I could go with you,” she said, blushing more deeply.

“... You want to come to the office with me?”

Sansa nodded eagerly. “I know it’s weird, but I’ve never seen your office, and sometimes when I’m in class I think about how you must be busy at work, but I can’t really picture it properly.”

“You’re right. That _is_ odd.”

Sansa swatted his arm. “I just like being able to close my eyes and imagine what you’re doing.”

His heart stuttered, and Stannis gave into the sudden urge to kiss her. “Davos will be pleased,” he said when their lips parted. “He never enjoys having to come in on Saturdays. I’ll be able to send him home early if I go in.”

“He has to go to work today because of me?” Sansa sounded guilt-stricken.

“Don’t worry about that. He and I are both used to coming in on Saturdays when necessary. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Are you sure?” She still sounded guilty.

“Of course I’m sure.”

It didn’t seem to matter how often, or how emphatically Stannis insisted that Davos was fine; Sansa seemed determined to feel guilty. She even made him stop on the way to the office to pick up an assortment of pastries and a fancy coffee for Davos, even though Stannis tried to tell her that Davos would assume that he’d gone mad. He had _never_ brought pastries and coffee to the office.

“Stannis? Is that you? I thought you said you would be busy all weekend… Did you bring _doughnuts?_ ” Davos was hidden behind a computer screen, but he must have smelled the sugar.

“Doughnuts and coffee.”

“Are you okay?” Davos stood up, a look of concern on his face. Surprise replaced it as soon as he spotted Sansa. “Miss Stark!”

“Sansa wanted to see the office,” Stannis explained, clearing his throat. “The doughnuts were her idea.”

“Ah,” Davos nodded and smiled at Sansa. “Many thanks.”

“I hope you like milk in your coffee,” Sansa said, bringing the disposable cup to Davos’ desk. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in here, today.”

“Milk’s good,” Davos said, accepting the offered beverage with a grateful smile.

“Stannis said you could leave early now that he’s here,” Sansa went on, now handing Davos a pastry.

Davos sent Stannis a bemused look. “Is that so?”

Stannis gave his friend a curt nod.

They lingered over coffee and doughnuts for a little while, but Stannis mostly kept silent as Sansa and Davos made small talk. Eventually Davos collected his things and headed for the door.

“Do you need me to come back later?” he whispered to Stannis as he left.

Stannis blinked. “No, of course not.”

Sansa shot them both curious looks.

“You’re actually going to work?” Davos said, again in a low voice that wouldn’t carry.

“Yes?”

Davos shook his head. “Okay then, I’ll see you on Monday.”

Sansa walked over to him, carrying the box with the leftover doughnuts. “What was that about?”

Stannis shrugged.

Sansa frowned for a moment, but brightened almost at once. “So, where’s your office?”

He led the way from Davos’ office over to his own one. It wasn’t a very long journey. Stannis liked having Davos close at hand.

“This is nice,” Sansa said, looking around with interest. She ran her hand over the smooth surface of his desk, and leaned in to examine his collection of vintage fountain pens.

Stannis looked around too, attempting to see his office through Sansa’s eyes. It was a lot more spartan than Davos’ office. There were no family pictures or drawings by children. His book shelf was lined with books that were strictly relevant to work, and the only things hanging on his wall were his University degrees and an old picture of him and Robert in front of the company headquarters. Perhaps that counted as a family picture? The view was better in this office, however, and he had large windows that faced two different directions, seeing as this was a corner office. No balcony, though.

Sansa sat in one of the visitor chairs and stood up again almost at once. “Did it take you long to find the most uncomfortable chairs in Westeros?”

“It keeps Robert from lingering,” Stannis said, raising a brow. He took a seat in his desk chair and booted his computer up. “There’s a sofa, if you prefer.”

Sansa went over to the sofa, sat down, and put the leftover doughnuts on the coffee table. “It’s not really that comfortable, either,” she said, shifting around.

Stannis was already sorting through his emails, and didn’t answer her. He needed to figure out which ones needed to be dealt with and which ones could wait until Monday. He also needed to figure out whether there were any contracts for him to review. Thankfully, Davos had sent him a memo which made this a lot easier.

He was in the middle of typing his second email when Sansa stood up from the sofa and approached him. Stannis kept typing, but looked up at her.

“Can I sit with you?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

He stared at her. “With me?” His hands faltered.

She twisted a lock of hair around a finger and nodded. “Please?”

Swallowing, he pushed his chair back a bit to make room for her. She immediately made herself comfortable on his lap. He waited for a moment, curious about what she would do, but when she just sat there, he hesitantly started to type his email again. (Though first he had to erase a lot of ‘g’s that had somehow ended up on the screen.)

“You missed a comma,” Sansa said after a while.

“Thanks.” He added the comma he’d missed.

He wrote and sent three more emails in relative peace, trying to ignore the way his blood was heating up due to Sansa’s proximity, and rather enjoying the useful way she caught his typos. Usually he didn’t make any typos, but he wasn’t usually typing with his gorgeous girlfriend on his lap.

As he wrote his fourth, Sansa started to nibble on his neck.

“That’s distracting,” he said, wondering whether she could feel how hard he was getting. _She must feel it._

“Sorry,” she said, her tone both meek and playful at the same time. It only served to make him harder.

“Maybe you should go and sit on the sofa again,” he suggested, though he said the words reluctantly.

Sansa wriggled. “But I like it here.” She turned her head so that he’d be able to see her exaggerated pout.

Her flirtatious, yet slightly childish behaviour reminded him of a few of the videos he’d watched for research purposes, and now his cock was practically _screaming_ for attention.

Hot all over, his mouth a little dry, and his heart pounding in his chest, he decided to test the waters a little. “Sweetheart, I need you to be a good girl for me now. I’m working.”

Sansa looked at him, and he could see that she was flushed with arousal. Her eyes were dark and glassy, too. “I’ll be good,” she whispered.

She sat still for a while after that, and Stannis forced himself to focus on his email despite the raging erection that was eating up most of his blood supply. For a minute he stared at the screen because he couldn’t remember how to spell ‘incontrovertible’. He was sweating by the time he hit send.

“Do you need me to do anything for you?” Sansa asked, shifting her ass deliberately and rubbing up against his cock. He really wished they weren’t wearing clothes. Or mostly he wished he wasn’t trapped in his trousers. Sansa was in a dress with a conveniently flowy skirt. It would be easy to flip it up, push her panties aside and fuck her. _That is, if she’s wearing any panties…_

“I need you to be a good girl for me,” he reminded her, groaning a little when she kept rubbing her ass against him.

“I want to be good for you,” she said in a breathy sort of voice. “Tell me how.”

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Why was she tempting him like this? Was she really in the mood for this sort of game, or was she just trying to please him? He looked at her, trying to see if she was feeling the least bit vulnerable. It really didn’t seem that way. She just looked… aroused.

 _Fuck it._ “Get on your knees.”

She did. A second later he heard the clink of his belt buckle being undone. Then the zipper. The breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding came out all at once when a soft hand dove into his boxer briefs and freed his cock.

He made an incoherent noise of pleasure when she wrapped her lips around the head and her hand around the base of his shaft. “Fuck, yes, _fuck,_ \-- good girl…”

He grabbed onto the armrest of his chair with one hand, and buried his other in Sansa’s gorgeous, loose hair. It felt like warm silk, though it couldn’t compete with the soft, delicious sensation of her tongue on his cock.

Sansa started to bob her head a bit, sucking with just the right amount of force.

Stannis looked down at her, unable to take his eyes off the vision she presented: half under his desk and pleasuring him.

 _I’m going to have to change offices,_ he thought hazily. _I’ll never be able to get any work done sitting at this desk after this._

He looked from Sansa to his desk, knowing there was an idea in there somewhere, but felt as if the neurons in his brain were misfiring.

She let go of his cock for a moment, and gave him a hopeful look. “Is it good?”

“Too good, sweetheart,” he said, hoping that she didn’t notice how strained he sounded. “I’m afraid I’m not getting any work done.”

Sansa moved her hand up and down, squeezing gently. “What do you want me to do?”

“Come here.” He helped her to her feet, holding his trousers up as he stood, too.

They exchanged a heated look, and he couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss her swollen lips.

The next few moments were a blur. Something primitive took hold of him, and somehow Sansa ended up bent over his desk, the skirt of her dress flipped up and her thighs spread. She was wearing panties, but they were so tiny and flimsy that they hardly counted. he pushed them aside with ease and guided his cock inside after making sure she was wet enough to take him.

She moaned as he pushed in at a slow pace, enjoying the warmth and the spine-tingling friction.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that his trousers had dropped to his ankles now that he was holding onto Sansa’s hips with both hands, but he didn’t care. Davos had been the only other person on this floor of the building, and he was gone. And anyway, even if his trousers _weren’t_ around his ankles, no one would be able to mistake what was happening if they were to walk in right now.

“Please, more,” Sansa begged after Stannis had spent a minute easing himself in and out at a sedate pace, trying to make this last, reasoning that if he was going to have to move offices, he might as well enjoy every second of this.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He slowed down a little, wondering if he could make her beg a little more.

“Please, please, _please..._ ” Her cunt tightened around him greedily.

“You need more?” he asked, breathing loudly through his nose.

“Yes!”

He fucked her just a little faster.

“And you think you deserve more?”

“ _Please._ ”

“You think you’ve been a good girl?” He was almost panting now, excitement making his ears buzz and his blood boil.

“Please, daddy, _yes._ ”

His spine tingled, his hips started to thrust of their own accord, and his cock twitched inside her. Arousal and power coursed through him, making him feel dizzy with pleasure. There was something deliciously wrong about all this, and yet he couldn’t help but feel it was also deliciously _right._

Sansa moaned ecstatically as he pounded himself into her, creating wet smacks every time he slid home. He grunted with nearly every stroke, experiencing powerful shocks of satisfaction when his balls thwacked against her, too.

"Oh, please, harder -"

Stannis tightened his grip on her hips, silently thanked the building’s maintenance man who had insisted that the desk be bolted down, and did as she asked.

“Gods, _yes,_ daddy please, just like that - just... there -” 

He went into a frenzy, drunk on power, unable to stop himself, fucking her with all of his strength.

She squealed and seized up around him, making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

He tried to grit his teeth and last through her orgasm, but she her cunt was gripping him tighter than a fist, and it just felt much too _good._ He let himself go, coming with a loud exhalation and a few incoherent curse words. 

Stannis collapsed into his desk chair with a singular lack of grace, breathing hard. His ears were still buzzing.

Sansa remained slumped over the desk for a few minutes, though her thighs weren’t spread anymore. She had squeezed them together, and squirmed every now and then.

“I need to clean up,” she said at length, sounding a little embarrassed. “I feel like there’s more than usual,” she added.

He felt rather proud for a moment. “I have an en suite just over there.”

She staggered to the inconspicuous door on shaky legs.

While he was alone he pulled up his trousers, though he didn’t cover himself properly. He needed to clean up, too. Otherwise his boxers would be a mess. He also glanced at his computer screen, and was relieved to see that his inbox hadn’t accumulated more messages. There were only three more emails that he urgently needed to answer. He could take the contracts that needed to be reviewed home with him and look at them later.

He wondered for a moment whether Sansa had asked him to take her to his office so that she might seduce him here. Could it be that she had wanted to come to his office just to have sex? 

He blinked at his screen, trying to process the idea.

Once Sansa and he had both cleaned up, and Stannis had finished answering the last of the emails that he had to answer, he joined Sansa on the sofa.

He didn’t have to wait very long before the question he expected came.

“Did you like it?”

“I think you know,” he said, kissing her temple.

She cuddled in closer. “Yeah, I think you liked it… but you said you needed me to call you… what I called you… a few more times before you could make up your mind and I just wondered -”

“I liked it.”

“Really?”

Stannis sighed. “I’m not entirely sure I like myself for liking it, but yes.”

“I know what you mean,” Sansa said, hiding her face against his chest. “I want to stop thinking about it, but I keep hearing your voice in my head, saying all these things and it just… gods.” Her voice became a tiny little whisper. “It turns me on.”

Intrigued, Stannis tried to nudge her so that she’d look up at him. “What kind of things?” She didn’t budge, and kept her face hidden.

“Awful, clichéd stuff that I should think is gross, but I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Could you give me an example?” He was burning with curiosity now.

“Promise not to judge me?”

“I promise.”

Sansa took a deep breath and exhaled it, warming him all the way through his suit jacket and his shirt. “Okay, like earlier… when I wanted to sit with you, I imagined that you said... “ She mumbled something indistinguishable.

“What was that?”

She took another deep breath. “Come sit on daddy’s lap.”

He swallowed, and felt his blood rush to his face. If he hadn’t just had a very powerful orgasm less than ten minutes ago, he was fairly sure his blood would have been rushing south, too.

Unsure what to do, he started to pet her hair. “You like the idea of me referring to myself as -”

“Yes,” she said, sounding relieved.

“I - I see.” Perhaps it was clichéd, but if it turned her on…

“You think I’m weird,” Sansa sighed. “I get it, _I_ think I’m weird. Like I said, I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. Randa says I have ‘daddy issues’, but I really don’t think that’s true. I get along with my father just fine. And I’m sure he wants to spend more time with me. He’s just… busy. And he’s not really the sort of person who talks about his feelings, and I get that. And just because he didn’t have time to read the paper I wrote about his favourite book does not mean I have _issues._ ”

Stannis understood. He kissed Sansa, encouraging her to straddle him so that they’d have easy access to one another, and let his hands roam.

“I don’t think you’re strange,” he said after a while, cupping her face and looking her straight in the eyes. “I think you’re beautiful, kind, intelligent, talented, driven, and all in all the sort of daughter any decent father would be proud to acknowledge as his own.”

Sansa blinked rapidly. “Do you - do you really think that?”

“Yes.”

She made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. “Could you write that down?”

The corners of his mouth lifted as he kissed her briefly on the lips. “If you like.”

There was a sigh, and she seemed to melt against him. They were quiet for a while, but it was a comfortable, companionable silence.

“Do you have a lot more work to do?”

“No. Just a few more emails.”

Sansa raised her head and bit her lip, searching his face. “Can we stop at the shops on the way back to your house?”

He raised a brow. “What do you need?”

She blushed. “You don’t have any bubble bath things at the house.”

“You want to have a bubble bath?” He couldn’t quite help the sceptical tone in his voice.

“I thought we could have one together,” Sansa said, fixing him with a thoroughly underhanded pleading sort of look.

He clenched his jaw, steeling himself. He’d deny her. Showers he could do. He’d wash her hair and her body as much as she wanted. But he had to draw the line somewhere.

“Please?” Sansa whispered, somehow making her eyes very big and very blue.

He closed his eyes and blew out a defeated breath.

“Why not?” he said, briefly wondering if he should hire Sansa to lead his team of negotiators. But then, maybe she wouldn't be able to get her way this easily with his business adversaries? After all, he doubted everyone in the world shared his weakness for her eyes. And her hair. And her lips. And her smile, and her laugh, and her wit, and her reading voice and her kindness and strength and…

_Hmm._

Possibly he was in trouble.


	21. Confessions

Sansa was in love. She was _sure of it._ She had thought she had been in love with Harry when everything had been good and easy and wonderful, but now she knew better. That had been a pale shadow of love.

Now she knew what the real thing was like, and it was choking her.

She kept almost blurting it out and being forced to bite her tongue. It was far too early in her relationship with Stannis to tell him she loved him. She wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, and it would hurt too much to tell him if her feelings weren’t returned.

She remembered with a blinding clarity that he had told her he had never really been in love. Not even with the woman he’d been engaged with.

_But he also said he’d never felt what he felt for me before…_

Sansa wanted so badly to believe that those words had meant something -- that they were a hint, or a promise. But she just wasn’t _sure._

“I really wish I could stay,” she said, swallowing The Words that kept trying to escape.

“We’ve discussed this,” Stannis said solemnly. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” It was as if the fact that they were standing at the train station meant nothing to him. That it would be easy as anything to just go back to Dragonstone and pretend they’d never left the house.

“I know,” she said, smiling at him. “But I have classes and a few decisions waiting.”

Stannis’ expression became strangely enigmatic, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

“Thank you for everything.” She blushed, thinking of the previous afternoon in Stannis’ office. She hadn’t really meant for any of that to happen, but seeing Stannis in that context, looking every inch the man in charge, had chased all rational thought from her mind. She had just wanted to sit in his lap and have him take charge of her, too.

 _At least I managed to restrain myself, today._ They’d had a perfectly lovely Sunday with normal sex, and a really nice brunch, and walk through the farmer’s market. Stannis really hadn’t seemed to mind everything that had happened in his office on Saturday, though. And he’d said the nicest things… and then he’d actually agreed to a _bubble bath._ Her heart expanded to an impossible extent at the memory, and she was forced to choke back The Words again.

_I love you._

“Call me when you get to your room,” he said, his eyes boring into her. It was phrased like a command, but something in his tone made it clear that it was a request. She had spent enough time with him to hear the difference.

“Of course,” she said, smiling at him.

He kissed her thank you, and Sansa didn’t care one bit that a few people sent them judgmental looks. She decided to focus on only noticing the lady that smiled nostalgically when she saw them.

“I’ll miss you,” she said when they broke apart. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

They kissed again with the lengths of their bodies pressed close - tongues and lips and breathy little noises - and said good-bye. Sansa felt absurd for almost wanting to cry, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to leave.

But the train left, and when it did, Sansa was on it.

The journey was quiet, and Sansa spent most of the time gazing out the first class window and replaying the weekend in her mind’s eye. From the moment Stannis had picked her up, until he’d pressed that last kiss good-bye to her lips, Sansa had felt _safe._ Now that she was hurtling towards the Vale again, anxiety started to gather in the pit of her stomach.

Tomorrow was Monday. She had Professor Baelish’ class on Mondays and Wednesdays. She really needed to decide what to do about that class _tonight._ Unless she just skipped it once and made her decision on Tuesday…

The idea of skipping a class - even Professor Baelish’s class - made her stomach knot up. She didn’t even skip class when she was sick. Not even when she got mono shortly after she and Harry started dating.

 _Neurotic,_ Arya’s voice said inside her head. Sansa could even hear the eyeroll.

Maybe she should just… go to the lecture? Pretend nothing had happened? The thought left her feeling cold, but it might be the only thing she could do if she wanted to finish her degree without a failed class on her transcript. But what if Professor Baelish tried to keep her after class again? What if he looked at her and smiled in that awful way of his? What would she do?

Sansa hugged herself around the middle and wished Stannis was with her. Or her parents.

 _I can’t tell them what happened,_ she thought, closing her eyes. Professor Baelish had been her mother’s friend once, and Sansa couldn’t face the idea that her parents might not believe her. It might be even worse if they _did_ believe her, though. She didn’t want to put shocked and worried looks on their faces.

She felt faintly nauseated by the time the train pulled into the station in the Vale, and she was more relieved than she could say when Randa’s face appeared in the sparse crowd.

“Hey,” Sansa said, trying to smile.

“Hey! How was your weekend? Feeling any better?” Randa’s words came out in a rush, and she practically yanked Sansa’s bag from her hands to carry it for her.

“A little,” Sansa said.

“Well, you’re going to feel loads better when you hear the amazing news!” Randa was almost dancing in place, and there was a wide grin on her face.

“News?”

“Professor Baelish got the sack!”

Sansa stopped breathing. “Really?”

“Yep! Mya Stone - she’s in one of my classes - saw him packing up his office today.” Randa laughed and started to walk out of the station towards the bus stop. “Apparently he did not look pleased.”

It felt as if an anvil had been removed from Sansa’s chest. If it weren’t for gravity, she was sure she’d float right off the ground. _I won’t have to go to his lectures anymore!_

“Why was he sacked?” Sansa asked. She hadn’t reported him, so it could hardly be because of the kiss, could it?

“No clue,” Randa said, shrugging. “But it’s brilliant! Bastard got what he deserved.”

Sansa nodded, unable to stop smiling.

After that, Sansa almost felt as if she had just woken up from a long, strange dream. Walking with Randa and chatting was so normal and easy; she felt like everything was right with the world.

By the time they got to their room, Sansa was bursting to call Stannis and tell him the news. Randa decided to go have a shower and give Sansa some privacy, and she called him as soon as Randa was out of sight.

“Stannis speaking.”

“It’s me,” Sansa said, smiling at Stannis’ formal greeting. “I’ve made it to my room.”

“Good journey?”

“Wonderful,” Sansa said, still smiling widely. “But you really didn’t have to get me first class tickets, you know.”

“Nonsense.”

She laughed. Everything made her want to smile and laugh. “Guess what,” she said, unable to contain herself any longer.

“What?” He sounded curious, not annoyed.

“Professor Baelish was spotted packing up his office, today! Randa thinks he’s been given the sack.”

“Good.” Stannis did not really sound surprised.

Sansa blinked at her phone. “Good?”

“Yes, I’m pleased. He did not deserve to keep his position after what he did.”

“You’re not surprised,” she said slowly, furrowing her brow.

“... I may have made some calls.”

“What?” Sansa’s heart started to beat frantically in her chest. “What calls? Who did you talk to? What did you tell people?” Her parents’ faces flashed in her mind, looking worried and sad.

“I merely asked Robert to put me in touch with Chancellor Yohn Royce. Robert has always donated very generously to his old University, so it was not hard to get the man on the phone. In any case, I told him what your professor did, but I did not mention your name.”

Her heartbeat slowed a little. “And what? He just believed you? Without proof?”

“I told him he was welcome to question his niece, Miss Royce, if he needed the facts from another source,” Stannis said slowly, “but he said he would take me at my word.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe it had been that easy.

“... Perhaps I might also have given him the impression that no more generous donations would be forthcoming from the Baratheon family if he did not act decisively. Professor Baelish was not tenured. It was not a difficult choice for your Chancellor.”

“So basically you blackmailed my school,” Sansa said, feeling a little faint.

“I gave your school a good motive to make the right choice,” Stannis argued, his voice steely.

Sansa considered the matter, trying to figure out whether Stannis had really done anything wrong. She doubted that her father would have approved of the method, but the result… the result had been good, hadn’t it? She doubted that Professor Baelish would have been sacked if she had done what her father would undoubtedly have advised, and reported the incident to the appropriate authorities.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. The more she thought about it, the more her chest warmed up.

_He did it for me. To protect me._

“You’re welcome,” Stannis said, sounding a little awkward now.

“You really didn’t have to,” Sansa said, lying down on her bed and sighing. “I could have handled it.”

“Of course you could have,” Stannis said, sounding sharp. “But that’s not how it should work. If one of your professors behaves in an unacceptable way, it should not be your responsibility to ‘handle it’. It should be the school’s responsibility.”

“I love you.”

There was a long silence.

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut. The Words had burst out without asking her leave, and now everything was ruined. “You don’t have to say it back,” she said hurriedly. “I know it’s too early.”

“... You - that’s how you really feel?”

Sansa bit her lip. Should she take it back? Tell him that it had just been the heat of the moment sort of thing? That she wasn’t sure?

“Yes.” _I don’t want to take it back._

She heard Stannis exhale. She wished she could see the look on his face. What had she been thinking, blurting The Words out over the phone?

“Could you give me a bit of time?” Stannis asked, his voice low and hoarse.

Her heart was right on the verge of breaking, but hope held it together. _He hasn’t said that he doesn’t love me._

“Of course,” she said, “I really didn’t mean to say it this soon. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding absurdly solemn.

“Well, I should really go to bed. Early class tomorrow, you know how it is. Good night!” She ended the call without waiting for his response. Her face felt too hot, and her hands were shaking.

_Stupid Sansa._

***

Sansa hesitated outside the door to Professor Baelish’s lecture hall. _Not his lecture hall anymore,_ she reminded herself. Who would teach his class now? Would anyone?

She took a deep breath and walked inside.

A young man sat at the teacher’s desk. He was handsome in that deeply nerdy sort of way: pale and thin and serious behind his glasses. His hair was honey brown and curly, a little on the long side. A cane stood against the wall behind him, within easy reach. It looked like the useful sort -- not a ‘pimp cane’ like Randa would call it.

She sat down in her usual seat near the front. The girls around her were whispering and occasionally letting out muffled giggles.

Eventually the lecture hall went silent.

“Good morning,” their new teacher said. “I am Professor Willas Tyrell. I teach at Highgarden University usually, but I’ve been on leave for my health for a few months. I’ve agreed to substitute for this class until a suitable replacement for Professor Baelish can be hired.”

 _Tyrell… like Margaery Tyrell? Joffrey’s girlfriend?_ Sansa wasn’t sure if she liked the idea of anyone connected to that girl teaching her.

A girl on Sansa’s left raised her hand.

“Yes?” Professor Tyrell said.

“Professor Tyrell, I’m sorry if this is rude, but you said you were on leave for your health. Are you well enough to teach?”

“I injured my leg a few years ago. Fell off a horse. I’ve had a few surgeries, but so far the doctors haven’t been able to fix me up good as new. But I make do. My research and the full course load I teach at Highgarden is a bit much for me at the moment, but I think I should be able to teach a handful of classes here until a suitable, permanent replacement can be found.” He glanced at his cane. “Any other questions?”

Sansa’s heart went out to Professor Tyrell, but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilty relief for Stannis. His injuries had all healed properly. She could only imagine how he would have handled it if he had been told that he’d need a cane for the rest of his life.

Professor Tyrell started his lecture. He had a gentle, easy way of speaking, and Sansa found herself drawn into the subject matter almost at once, forgetting all about the possible connection between the professor and Joffrey’s girlfriend. Everything in her environment faded away as he spoke, and Sansa felt transported back in time. She could so easily picture the period in history Professor Tyrell described, and how it had inspired the poets and writers of the time. She was therefore quite startled when there was a sharp knock on the door halfway through the lecture.

Professor Tyrell, who had been limping around with the aid of his cane, stopped talking and looked surprised. “Enter,” he said after a few moments of silence.

The door swung open.

Sansa drew in a sharp breath. _Stannis?_

Stannis was standing in the doorway, looking like he hadn’t slept very much, but otherwise very intimidating in an immaculate black suit.

Professor Tyrell limped over to him. “May I help you?”

Stannis said something in a low voice that didn’t carry. Professor Tyrell looked around, his eyes sweeping over the students in the hall. “Anyone here by the name of Miss Stark?”

Sansa raised her hand.

“You have a visitor. Make it quick.”

Sansa shot to her feet and rushed to the door, uncomfortably aware of every pair of eyes in the room following her movements.

Once she was in the corridor with Stannis and the door to the lecture hall was closed, she gave into the urge to gape at him. “What are you doing here?”

He swallowed noticeably, and searched her face. “I needed to see you.”

Her heart was beating in her throat, and her stomach was flipping over and over. “Oh?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he went on, running a hand through his hair and then rubbing his face. “What you said… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

She blushed, and her heart beat harder.

Stannis started to pace. Three steps forward, three steps back. Again and again. “I’ve told you before that I’ve never felt the way I do about you about anyone else,” he said, his voice strained.

He stopped right in front of her, and cupped her face.

She held her breath.

“I love you, too,” he said, his words clearly and seriously spoken.

It took her a moment to register his words. Her blood was rushing in her ears.

But then it hit her, and her body seemed to fill to the brim with pure, unadulterated _happiness._ A smile burst into life from deep within her, making her cheeks hurt, and she practically _launched_ herself at Stannis, kissing him, winding her arms around his neck, and holding on as tight as she could. He staggered for a moment, but then he wrapped his arms around her middle, hugging her just as tightly back, and kissing her enthusiastically.

Everything was warm and perfect like melted chocolate on the tip of her tongue.

The kiss went on for so long that Sansa felt a certain something harden below Stannis’ belt, but that only spurred her on. She let her nails rake through the hair at the back of his head, and nibbled on his bottom lip when their tongues weren’t busy curling around one another. She moaned when he sucked on her lips in return, and kissed her with so much ardour that her skin burned, and their teeth clicked together.

Neither one of them wanted to be the one to stop, but eventually they were forced to come to their senses. They both took a step back, breathing hard, lips swollen.

“Don’t you have work?” she asked, shaking her head to clear it.

“You’re more important.”

She kept shaking her head, feeling overwhelmed. “Are you going to stay?”

“I drove. I can drive back tonight or tomorrow. It doesn’t matter.”

Should she skip out on class and go with Stannis? She bit her lip. It was incredibly tempting, but skipping class really didn’t sit well with her. Even for such a momentous occasion. But Stannis would expect her to drop everything, wouldn’t he? He had driven all this way... “Do you want me to -”

“No.” Stannis shook his head, and stroked her cheek. “You should go back to your lecture. I’ll go to a café and wait for you to finish. I can do some work on my laptop. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.” His eyes were serious, but there was fondness in his gaze, too.

Sansa had never quite felt as _understood._

They kissed again, managing to keep it fairly short this time, and Sansa went back to the lecture hall with a wide, lovestruck grin on her face.

_He loves me._

***

Stannis ordered an espresso even though he hated coffee, needing a heavy dose of caffeine to make sure he didn’t end up using his laptop as a pillow.

The past twelve hours seemed a blur. A wonderful, terrifying blur. If he weren’t so exhausted, he’d be tempted to suspect that he was dreaming.

Sansa had told him that she loved him. _Him._

His brain had seemed to stop working as soon as he heard the words, and he hadn’t known how to respond. He’d never been in love. He didn’t know whether his feelings for Sansa were love. He wanted them to be. He had wanted to tell her that he loved her too as soon as she had confessed her feelings, but he knew he had to be sure. He needed to see Sansa’s face and look into her eyes and make certain that what she was feeling was genuine, too. She was so young… it was entirely possible that she was just confused.

When she had emerged from the lecture hall he had known at once that she was not confused.

It all seemed so _clear._

Stannis drank his espresso in three impatient gulps and tried to focus on work. Being in love was no excuse to slack off.

His brain buzzing, he managed to read Davos’ latest memo, start writing two emails, and do a bit of editing in a spreadsheet that gave him a headache whenever he looked at it.

“Mr. Baratheon, isn’t it?”

Stannis looked up, ready to verbally lash out at the man who dared interrupt him.

It was Baelish.

With his lip curling in disgust, Stannis rose to his feet and crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

Some of the nearest patrons at the café were watching them, but Stannis ignored their curious eyes.

“I know it was you,” Baelish said, his eyes glittering. “I know you got me fired.”

“Good,” Stannis said, looming over the shorter man and hoping, for the first time in his life, that he would be given an excuse to throw a punch. Any excuse would do.

Baelish frowned, but then he schooled his features. “I’m guessing you could smell it on her, too?” he said, his voice silky. “You were just quicker than me.” He gave a small, mocking bow. “I suppose I have only myself to blame… I should have conceded defeat.”

“Smell what?” Stannis asked, his voice practically a growl.

“Oh, you know,” Baelish said, smirking now. “The desperate need for approval, the desire to obey. To _submit_. Halfway through my first class with her I knew she needed a man to guide her. A man, mind you, not a boy. Someone… _older._ ”

Stannis saw red, and suddenly his his fist was in _agony._ He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his pain from showing. Baelish was on the floor, but he was already struggling back to his feet. His nose was broken, by the look of things.

The café had gone very silent, but that didn't last long. Hushed, urgent conversations started up, and a barista bustled over to them, a determined expression on her face. She asked Stannis to leave. He gave a curt nod and started gathering his things.

“You know I’m right,” Baelish said, smirking through the blood. “Or did you think she actually liked you for your personality?”

Clenching his jaw, Stannis strode from the café, computer bag slung over his shoulder, the newly healed bones in his right hand screaming at him. Had he broken them again? _Gendry will kill me._

He decided to head back for the building Sansa was in. Her lecture should be over soon, and she’d probably know where to get medical assistance.

 _She does like me for my personality,_ he told himself as he walked, ignoring the way his stomach was squirming. _She loves me._

The things she liked in bed had nothing to do with any of this. Baelish might have picked up on that aspect of her character, but there was so much more to her. She didn’t just want to be dominated in bed by any older man who walked by. She wanted to discover new and talented authors and bring fresh stories to the world. She wanted to help people. She wanted to watch movies with happy endings and eat popcorn with a little bit of salt and too much butter. She wanted her parents to be proud of her, and she wanted to get married and have children. 

She probably wanted a giant lemon cake served at her wedding.

“Stannis?” Sansa smiled at him when she saw him. “I thought you were going to wait at a café?”

“I thought so, too,” he muttered, glancing around and glaring at the curly-haired professor with the cane who was the last to leave the lecture hall.

“Is everything all right?” the man asked, limping over.

“Yes professor, and I’m sorry about the interruption earlier. It was important.” Sansa was still smiling.

“You should get that looked at,” the professor said, nodding at Stannis’ hand.

“You’re hurt!” Sansa exclaimed, her smile vanishing. She reached for his hand and examined it gently. He allowed it, even though he didn’t like the way the professor was watching them.

“Who did you punch?” the professor asked, tilting his head to the side.

“You punched someone?” Sansa’s eyes became wide and round.

“Baelish,” Stannis muttered, trying to keep Professor Limpy from hearing.

“Professor Baelish?” Limpy repeated, raising an eyebrow. “My, he’s not having a good week.”

Stannis scowled at him. “He deserved it.”

Limpy had both eyebrows raised now. “I’ll take your word for it. You should really get that looked at, though.”

“I’ll take him to the clinic,” Sansa said at once. “Thank you, Professor Tyrell.”

 _A Tyrell,_ Stannis thought. _Of course._ Renly had a boyfriend called something-or-other Tyrell, and he looked quite similar. A bit more healthy, perhaps.

“You punched Professor Baelish?” Sansa asked as soon as they had walked out of Professor Tyrell’s earshot.

“He decided to bother me at the café,” Stannis said. He tried to flex his injured hand and winced at the pain. “He deserved it.”

“Because he kissed me, or was there more to it?” Sansa asked, shooting his hand concerned little looks.

“He said some things I didn’t like.”

“Do I want to know?” She gave him a wary look.

Stannis paused, wondering whether to tell her. She kept looking at him.

“... He indicated that you were only with me because you liked the idea of sleeping with an older man.”

“What?” Sansa stopped walking and stared at him. “Where did he get that idea? All the guys I’ve ever dated before have been my age. I mean, Harry was a little older, I guess, but only by a year and half.”

Stannis hesitated again. What good could come of telling Sansa everything Baelish had said?

“Please tell me,” Sansa asked, fixing him with an even more potent pleading look.

There was no way to resist. He had to tell her.

“He - he claimed that he could sense that you were interested in… ” Stannis faltered and looked around. They had stopped on a path that probably led to the clinic Sansa had said she’d take him to, but though they were out in the open, it did not seem like anyone was within easy hearing range. “... Certain things,” Stannis finished, keeping his words vague just in case. He tried to communicate the scope of what he meant with his expression; judging by the way Sansa blanched, he succeeded.

She didn’t remain perturbed, however. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “That’s just stupid. No one can ‘sense’ stuff like that. Come on, the clinic is just around the corner.”

Feeling relieved, Stannis squared his own shoulders and followed Sansa.

Baelish might have sown a bit of doubt in Stannis’ mind with his words, but just being in Sansa’s presence was rapidly chasing every last seed away. Perhaps Baelish had picked up on something about Sansa, and perhaps he hadn’t, but that didn’t make what he’d said any less desperate, pathetic, and - as Sansa had said - _stupid._ Now that Stannis was away from Baelish’s smirking face, he could see very clearly that the man hadn’t just lost the race. He had never even earned the right to compete.

Stannis should have known better than to punch him.

 _Satisfying, though,_ he thought.

… Satisfying and painful.

He winced. Hopefully there would be strong pain killers at the clinic.


	22. Weekend Interrupted

Stannis had fractured a few of the bones that had just healed in his hand, which led to a series of consequences. First, he couldn’t drive his car back home; he had to take the train instead. Second, he needed to stay put for the next few weeks and couldn’t visit the Vale again right away. Third, his car needed to be driven south. Obviously it only made sense that Sansa would do it after class on Friday, and that she would then spend another weekend with Stannis on Dragonstone.

Sansa was a little nervous about driving Stannis’ very nice black BMW. Very nice _manual_ BMW. Thankfully her father had insisted that she learn to drive a stick shift back when she first got her permit, but it had been a while since Sansa had driven every day, and that had been in Winterfell.

She needn’t have worried. The traffic wasn’t too bad, and most of the journey was spent in fifth gear, zooming down the freeway. The hardest bit was navigating the late evening traffic through King’s Landing to the ferry dock. She got lost once, but managed to get to the dock in time to catch the last ferry.

She called ahead while the ferry sailed the short distance to Dragonstone island, and Stannis met her in the driveway of his house. He showed her where to park, and did not seem even a little interested in the car. (Whenever Sansa had borrowed Robb’s car in the past, he had always checked it for scratches as soon as she returned it.) All Stannis did was gaze hungrily at _her._

They kissed as if it had been months since they’d seen each other, not less than a week.

“Thank you for doing this,” Stannis said, stroking her hair with his unbandaged hand.

“Any excuse to spend more time with you,” she said, feeling decidedly sappy.

He hummed and kissed her again.

“Though I’m going to have to do some studying this weekend,” she warned. _Unfortunately._ “I can’t spend all my time doting on you.”

Stannis raised a brow, his lips quirking. “You’re going to dote on me?”

Sansa still had her arms around his neck from when they had been kissing, and she leaned back, hanging off his neck. His good hand went to her back to lend her additional support. It felt warm and solid and safe. “Of course I’m going to dote on you,” she said happily. “You’re my boyfriend, and I love you. _And_ you’re injured.”

Stannis was looking at her as if he didn’t quite know what to do or say. After blinking a few times and swallowing, he nodded. “I love you, too.” He sounded unusually hoarse.

She beamed at him and straightened up to give him another kiss. Everything was _perfect._ “Let’s go inside.”

They ended up in the TV lounge after they took Sansa’s luggage to the bedroom, but they didn’t turn the television on. They just curled up together like they had done it a million times before.

“Has Gendry forgiven you yet?” she asked after a little while of cuddling and inhaling the scent of Stannis’ aftershave. Stannis had been complaining about Gendry since Tuesday. Apparently ‘the tyrant’ was not at all pleased with his patient’s reckless behaviour, and had given Stannis a piece of his mind.

“Not really,” Stannis grumbled. “I had to give him a raise and practically swear never to punch anyone ever again just so that he wouldn’t quit.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Sansa said, arching a brow. “Unless you’re going to punch every jealous, petty person in the world.”

Sansa still couldn’t believe that after getting Professor Baelish _fired,_ he had also _punched_ the man. After all his hard work trying to get fully fit after his injuries, he decided to risk it all just to punch Professor Baelish for mouthing off and predictably trying to get the last word in.

_Men._

Sansa still thought it was quite strange that Professor Baelish had decided to say that stuff about how she must be with Stannis because she wanted an older man, and that he had ‘sensed’ that she’d be interested in ‘certain things’. For a moment - back when Stannis had first told her what Professor Baelish had said - she had been worried that he actually _had_ been able to sense her kinks before she had even discovered them, but then she had remembered that Professor Baelish wasn’t a very good person, and probably not above lying about things like that to get on Stannis’ nerves.

“I’ll heal,” Stannis said, pursing his lips. “And you can’t say much. You slapped Joffrey, I believe.”

She blushed. “That was different. You, on the other hand, are lucky that you’re not a surgeon or a pianist. Your career would be over if you were.”

“True.”

They fell silent, and Sansa felt her eyes start to droop. It was getting late, and she had spent several hours on the road.

“Do you want to watch something?” she asked with a yawn.

“No, I think we should go to sleep,” Stannis said, kissing her temple and using his uninjured hand to stroke her back.

“Okay.” She closed her eyes and breathed a content sigh, her lips curling into a small smile.

***

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Because I think I’ll probably kill you with this thing.”

“Just try it, I’ll keep still.”

“But it’s so… intimidating.”

“You’re being absurd. Just do it.”

Sansa took a deep breath and bit her lip as she slowly, steadily, used the frighteningly sharp straight razor to shave Stannis’ cheek. It glided through the conditioner like a dream, and left Stannis’ skin perfectly smooth.

“See?” Stannis said. “It’s easy.”

Sansa smiled and remembered his first reaction to the idea of her using a straight razor on him. If she recalled correctly, he had thought she’d kill him if she ever tried it. “Okay. Where next?”

Stannis walked her through the process of shaving his whole face, step by step, and Sansa only nicked him once. But she maintained that it was because of an ingrown hair, and not her fault at all.

She took her time about using her fingertips to evaluate the results of the shave, enjoying how warm, slippery and smooth he was. Mostly she enjoyed how relaxed his jaw was as she touched him. Stannis was always clenching his teeth, but now that he was completely at ease, he seemed gentler.

“Sansa…” he groaned after a while, opening his eyes to give her a heated look.

“Good?”

He hummed and placed his unbandaged hand over the hand that was still exploring his freshly shaved face, pressing her palm to his lips and kissing it.

Heat moved through her, gathering low in her belly, and she couldn’t help but glance at his groin to see if he was similarly affected. He was.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” she asked, her heartbeat picking up.

Stannis had woken up long before she had, so Sansa had missed the opportunity for some early morning cuddling, but she hadn’t been upset with him for leaving her to sleep in by herself. He’d brought her breakfast in bed when she had eventually stirred, and then asked for her help shaving.

“Yes.”

For a while they just wound their limbs together and made out; a searing kiss following each one that came before it until Sansa’s lips felt swollen and tender from all the nibbling and sucking.

Eventually Stannis started to explore between her thighs with his fingers, stroking her through the fabric that covered her until she was mewling and squirming beneath his hand.

“Like that, sweetheart?” he whispered, breathing hot air into her ear.

She whined out an affirmative noise, and helped him push the tiny shorts she had slept in down and off. She was so glad she hadn’t bothered to get dressed before helping him shave. She was even happier that he was still in his night things, too.

“Do you want more?” he asked, massaging her carefully. She was audibly wet, but the slick noise of his fingers rubbing her didn’t make her feel embarrassed. It just made her want more.

“ _Please,_ ” she begged, hoping that he’d offer to use his mouth. She liked his fingers, but his tongue was just so much nicer.

“More of this, or do you want something else?”

 _Did he read my mind?_ “Something else,” she admitted.

Stannis licked her neck. “I think I know what you want, sweetheart, but I need to be careful with my fractured hand,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “Do you want to come up here?” He gestured in a way that made it clear that he was offering to let her straddle his face.

Sansa swallowed, suddenly nervous. “What if I’m too heavy?”

Stannis huffed out an amused breath. “I think I’ll be able to shift you.”

She _was_ rather curious about this. It was something she had never tried, and Randa talked about it like it was the greatest thing ever invented.

With a nod, she started to get herself in position. It was a little awkward, and it seemed a bit scary to basically sit on Stannis’ face - _what if I suffocate him?_ \- so Sansa didn’t quite put all her weight on him. She tensed her thighs and tried to sort of… hover.

When Stannis started to lick, she almost forgot to hold herself up, though. She was wound tight, and he really, _really_ knew what she liked. Slowly, she started to relax into it, closing her eyes and forgetting herself. It felt so good to sink down on his smooth face and just let him make her _moan._

She loved the way he used the flat of his tongue to lick her like he wanted to taste every inch of her, parting her folds and making her breath hitch in her throat when he went anywhere near her clit. She loved the way he sometimes pushed it inside, the wriggly warmth of it making her squirm and shudder with pleasure. But it was all somehow more intense than it usually was because she was pressed so close, and she could feel his lips and his nose and the skin around his mouth much more acutely than she usually could.

Occasionally he squeezed her thigh in a way that she understood instinctively to mean that he needed a bit of air, and then she would move and give him some space. But mostly it was just bliss. 

Her orgasm was building steadily with each lick, and now he had started to do those perfect steady circles that made her toes curl and her voice falter as she whimpered for him. “Please, please…”

He squeezed her thigh lightly and she shifted a bit, resisting the temptation to start grinding herself on his face. 

His tongue started circling again, and she felt the tension in her muscles climb until she felt as if her spine was going to snap. She couldn’t describe the noises she was making.

Without warning, he sucked on the area right around her clit, making her gasp. “Gods… _yes!_ ” _So close!_

Unfortunately, Stannis gave her a slightly more forceful squeeze than before, and she realised that he meant for her to get off. (And not in the fun way.)

“Please - just a little longer,” she begged, rising up, but not moving all the way off. She still had her knees in the same place.

Stannis’ voice was sinful when he spoke. “Remember what happens to greedy, disobedient girls, sweetheart?”

She felt her insides clench up around empty nothingness, and whimpered. Suddenly she wanted his cock a lot more than she wanted his mouth.

“You do, don’t you? Are you going to be a good girl, then?”

She nodded frantically.

“Answer out loud.” He reached up and gave her ass a light smack. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, daddy,” she said, breathing fast. She was _drenched._

“Lie down,” he said, still speaking in that deep raspy voice.

She got on her side next to him, her body turned towards his. He turned a bit too, and sought her lips with his. He tasted of her, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed the messy kiss, and giggled when he moved to tickle her neck with his tongue. His good hand played with one of her nipples through her flimsy top, and eventually she helped him take it off. Impatiently, Stannis tore his T-shirt off, too.

It was nice to do a bit of kissing and groping, but she wanted to move things along. She had been so close, and she really needed to come.

Sansa raked her nails from Stannis’ neck, over his abdomen, and all the way to his groin, liking the texture of skin stretched over muscle, and the wiry hair she encountered on her way, but liking his hard cock a lot more. She stuffed her hand down his pyjama bottoms and wrapped her fingers around it, gripping firmly.

“Did I give you permission to touch that?”

Slowly, Sansa retracted her hand. “... No.”

“I want you to play with your nipples,” he told her, giving her a scorching look, his pupils blown wide. She could barely see the blue of his irises.

She squirmed and squeezed her thighs together, but did as he asked. It felt a little odd to play with her nipples as he did nothing but watch, but Sansa was sure she could have been doing practically anything at all, and it would have felt wildly arousing given the state she was in and the intensity of his gaze.

Stannis’ nostrils flared as she teased herself with feather-light touches - slow and gentle here, fast and maddening there, and never too much stimulation at once - and his obvious arousal and interest only made her want to put on more of a show. She threw her head back and moaned, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut for effect. She used her hands to cup her breasts and push them up a little as he played with her nipples with the tips of her fingers, and tried to angle her body so that he’d be able to see everything.

“Good girl,” he groaned after a while, shifting on the bed and hurriedly stripping completely naked.

Sansa’s lips parted of their own volition when she saw him: hard and ready for her, and she gave him a pleading look.

Stannis met her eyes, and they stared at each other for a breathless moment. Through the haze of their arousal she could see that he was considering something, and her heart pounded as she waited for him to speak.

“Do you want daddy’s cock, sweetheart?”

That hadn’t been her imagination.

“ _Yes,_ ” she breathed, hardly able to say the word emphatically enough. “Please.”

He beckoned her, and she hurried to straddle him before he had a chance to change his mind. She was just about to line him up and sink down when he spoke.

“Wait,” he said.

She froze.

“Don’t put it in. Play with it.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she did as he asked. It felt very good to rub the blunt head of his cock against her folds, but it wasn’t chasing the empty ache that was rapidly driving her to distraction away. No matter how much she ground her clit against him, letting the shaft slide against her and tickle her nerve endings, and no matter how desperately she moved, it just wasn’t enough.

He was observing her through half-lidded eyes. She saw him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down slowly. Her mouth watered a little as she had the fleeting mental image of herself licking it. 

“Do you like playing with daddy’s cock?” he rasped, distracting her and making her cheeks burn hotter.

She bit her lip and nodded. She _did_ like it. But she wanted so much more.

“You’re such a good girl…” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, his hips jerking slightly, causing the slippery friction to intensify for a second.

She whimpered.

He opened his eyes again and looked at her, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. “Do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Too far gone to make coherent words, she ground herself against him a little harder and tried to wriggle so that the tip of his cock would notch in the right place.

“All right, it’s all right,” he murmured under his breath, almost like he was trying to calm an anxious filly. “You need it, don’t you?”

She whimpered again, but this time it was in relief. He was finally in the right place, and he was letting her sink down on him. It happened quickly since she was so wet, but, oh. _Oh._ “It’s so good,” she said, hardly recognising her own voice. It was throaty and breathless and a little whiny. “You feel so good…”

“You feel good too, sweetheart,” Stannis rasped, his voice strained. He bucked up a little, making them both gasp.

Sansa took the hint and started to roll her hips in time with his movements. She wasn’t entirely sure whether he was guiding her movements or following along with her. Every thrust, every grinding motion, it all seemed so effortless… so seamless. And yet they were both sweating a little, and breathing heavily. Perhaps Sansa just didn’t notice the effort because her body was so distracted by the pleasure of being filled, and the satisfying way his pubic bone ground against her clit at regular intervals.

Stannis have her ass another light smack after a little while. “You’re neglecting your breasts,” he told her, his eyes dark.

For a moment she couldn’t think about anything except how much she wanted him to keep spanking her like that, but then she realised that he wanted her to put on another show, and quickly started to pluck at her nipples to get them to pebble up. Touching herself like this would always have added to her pleasure, but touching herself on Stannis’ orders, expressly to provide a view that would please him, added even more. She felt herself clench up around as she moaned, and rolled her nipples more eagerly between thumb and forefinger.

It was obvious that he was enjoying it as much as she was, because he started to buck up more forcefully, setting a harder pace.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so perfect,” he groaned, his good hand clutching her hip and anchoring her in place as he thrust up into her. He was panting now. “Good… girl…”

She deliberately stopped touching her nipples and leaned forward, bracing herself by placing one hand on either side of Stannis’ head. “Am I still good, daddy?” she asked, making her voice challenging and a little coy even as she fucked him just as hard as he was fucking her.

He let go of her hip and smacked her ass again. She closed her eyes and moaned. Electric sparks of pure pleasure shooting along every nerve in her body.

“You know perfectly well that you’re being naughty,” he said archly. He kept spanking her, the noise of it echoing off the walls, and the shock of the slaps heightening her pleasure to an impossible degree. She started to come sooner than she wanted to, squirming and grinding and crying out, feeling flushed, alive, and deliciously naughty.

With one last squeal she almost collapsed on top of him, her orgasm zapping the strength from her arms and turning most of her muscles to butter.

He rolled them around, braced himself with his good hand, and ploughed into her with what felt like all his strength. Since he had gravity on his side too, it meant that Sansa was getting the sort of pounding that always made her want to scream herself hoarse. He was prolonging her orgasm deliciously, and grunting every time he bottomed out inside her, but she was too weak with pleasure to do much more than keep her thighs open to welcome him.

 _Why did no one tell me sex could be like this?_ she wondered vaguely. Sex with Harry hadn’t been bad at all, but it had not made her toes curl like they were curling now.

Stannis groaned as he came, his thrusts becoming quick and shallow. She let her hands wander from his shoulders down his back, and smiled to herself as she dug her nails into his buttocks and heard him make a little noise of surprise.

He rolled off much too soon. She didn’t like the empty feeling she got when he pulled out of her. No matter how sated she was, she always felt a little bereft for those first few seconds after they were no longer connected.

They cuddled in silence for a while, and Sansa ignored their sticky skin and the mess that was seeping out of her. She felt too happy to focus on those things, even though they would usually make her want to clean up. Her happiness was due to several things, but at the moment she couldn’t stop trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Stannis had listened to her, and that he had done everything to fulfil her fantasies.

_“Do you want daddy’s cock, sweetheart?”_

Remembering the way he’d said it sent a little aftershock through her. _He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with me._

“I love you,” she said, the words leaving her lips as soon as she thought them.

“I love you, too,” Stannis said, his voice hoarser than usual.

She closed her eyes and let her mind wander for a long while, savouring her happiness.

A random thought struck her, and she raised her head to look at Stannis. He peered at her through half-closed eyes. 

“Do you really think Professor Baelish sensed that I’d be into some unconventional things in bed?” she asked. It seemed really far-fetched, but she had never asked Stannis for his opinion, and he hadn’t offered it back when he’d first told her what her professor had said.

Stannis opened his eyes a bit more, and considered the question, frowning a little. “Perhaps he managed to deduce something… if he was looking for signs. But he really shouldn’t have been looking for signs.”

Sansa tilted her head to the side. “Signs?”

He evaded her eyes and reddened a little. “Well, I didn’t really spot them until you started making it very obvious, but I can imagine that to someone with a trained eye it might have -”

“When did I start making it obvious?”

Stannis cleared his throat. “You practically told me you wanted me to take charge, and after you did that, I realised that you’d been dropping hints. You sometimes provoked me a little and asked me what would happen if you didn’t stop. I believe you were attempting to ascertain whether I’d punish you.”

 _He’s right,_ she realised, thinking back. She felt herself blush. “I never said or did anything like that with Professor Baelish.”

“I should hope not,” Stannis said, arching a brow. “But as I said. I imagine that a man like that would be adept at spotting more subtle signs.” His voice was dripping with contempt. He muttered something under his breath that might have been ‘pervert’, but Sansa wasn’t sure.

She sighed. “I guess it doesn’t really matter.” If she was giving off some kind of signal, it wasn’t on purpose, so she could hardly just _stop._

“You’re right,” Stannis said, tightening his grip on her. “You’re mine now, and I protect what’s mine.”

“Gendry said you’re not allowed to punch anyone else.”

“Violence is not my weapon of choice.”

Sansa nestled against him and smiled into the crook of his neck. “What is your weapon of choice?”

“According to my brothers, it’s stubborn pig-headedness.”

She wasn’t sure whether he sounded grumpy or amused. “And according to yourself?”

“Superior intellect and excellent knowledge of the rules of engagement.”

Sansa laughed. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that I outsmart my enemies, or failing that, I take them to court and throw lawyers at them until they beg for mercy. People never understand the law, which means they’re always breaking laws they don’t bother to study or respect.”

Sansa briefly wondered why Stannis had never been an attorney. They’d talked about it, and Stannis had told her that he’d been an executive his entire working life.

“Laws like how you’re not supposed to physically assault people?” Sansa said innocently.

“Should you really be up on that high horse?” Stannis asked, giving her a _look._

She rolled her eyes. _How often must I explain that slapping Joffrey was different?_ But she said nothing.

The silence soon became comfortable and sleepy. Stannis started stroking her hair.

Sansa was half asleep, only dimly aware of Stannis still stroking her, when a phone rang. It was Stannis’ cell. He stopped stroking her to answer it - announcing his name like he usually did - and she pouted a little at the loss of the pleasurable sensation.

“What?” Stannis suddenly said, his voice alarmed.

Sansa’s pout became a worried frown, and she sat up, wide awake in a second. Stannis didn’t meet her eyes when she tried to catch his gaze. He was staring into the middle distance, his lips slightly parted.

She couldn’t hear exactly what the person on the phone was saying, but she could hear a male voice, speaking in clipped, official sounding sentences.

“Thank you,” Stannis said hoarsely. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” He ended the call and stared at his phone, still not meeting her eyes.

“Stannis?” she asked, becoming more frightened with every second that passed by in silence. “What happened?”

She held her breath, and felt her heart skip a beat when Stannis finally met her eyes. He looked as if he were in shock.

“It’s Robert.”


	23. Heart to Heart

“It’s a miracle he’s alive,” Doctor Pylos said, shaking his head. “Your niece found him passed out in a pool of his own vomit. He was dead for a few minutes, but the paramedics managed to resuscitate him. The gods only know how; your brother has the worst sort of alcohol poisoning I’ve ever seen. We pumped his stomach, of course, but we’re honestly not sure if he’ll pull through. He has such an advanced case of cirrhosis that he’ll most likely need a liver transplant.”

Sansa squeezed Stannis’ good hand and glanced over at Myrcella. She and Tommen were sitting together, looking tearful and afraid in the early Sunday morning light that shone through the hospital’s windows.

Cersei wasn’t there, and neither was Joffrey. Sansa knew that Joffrey was still in Lannisport, but shouldn’t Cersei be around?

_Maybe she’s with Robert._

“What are his chances of getting a liver?” Stannis asked, his voice flat.

“He’s near the top of the waiting list, but in these cases the odds of finding a good match quickly isn’t very high.”

“Does he need a whole liver?” Stannis asked, still in that flat, lifeless tone of voice.

“Not necessarily. We often transplant a section of a living donor’s liver into patients. It’s a risk, surgery always is, but usually the donor will be a close family member, and thus willing to take that risk. Are you offering?”

“You’d have to test whether we’re a match, wouldn’t you?”

“Naturally.”

“Do it.”

“I’ll make the arrangements at once.”

***

Sansa wanted to stay. She really did, but Stannis told her to go back to school. There was nothing that she could do, and he insisted that he would feel better if he knew she wasn’t missing any classes because of Robert’s ‘latest mess’.

It was Tuesday by the time Sansa heard that Stannis wasn’t a match for Robert, and that Renly wasn’t either.

On Wednesday Stannis told her that Joffrey and Myrcella had agreed to get tested. Tommen was too young to donate part of his liver.

Today it was Thursday and her phone was ringing. 

It was Stannis.

“Any news?” she asked, customary greetings and pleasantries forgotten.

“They weren’t a match,” Stannis said, sounding extremely unlike himself. Sansa wasn’t sure why she felt that way, as the voice on the other end of the line was definitely _his,_ but there was just something… missing.

“Maybe they’ll find a match some other way,” Sansa said, trying to sound consoling and calm even though she was becoming more worried by the second.

“You don’t understand,” Stannis said, still sounding far away and unlike himself. “They’re not even a little related.”

Sansa furrowed her brow. “Joffrey and Myrcella aren’t related?” _If Joffrey’s adopted, that explains a few things._ But Sansa realised at once that Joffrey couldn’t be adopted. He and Myrcella - and Tommen for that matter - looked just like Cersei.

“They’re not Robert’s children.”

Sansa actually did the thing she’d only seen people do in movies, where they took the phone away from their ear and stared at it for a moment. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Sansa blew out a breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. “What did Cersei say?”

“She hasn’t said anything. She left for Lannisport two days ago and hasn’t responded to any attempts to reach her.”

Sansa shook her head. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Stannis still sounded strained and unlike himself, and Sansa wished she was with him. The urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him close was becoming stronger and stronger, and it made her clutch her phone a little too tightly.

Stannis cleared his throat. “However, I do have some good news. A match has been found.”

“Really?” Sansa was having a very hard time keeping up with this conversation.

“Yes. It’s Gendry. He’s registered as a non-directed altruistic donor.”

“Really? _Gendry?_ Your physical therapist Gendry?” _What are the odds…_

“Yes.”

“And he’s going to do it? Give Robert part of his liver?”

“Apparently he is.”

Sansa thought back on her first meeting with Gendry, and how she had been struck by the strong feeling of familiarity at the sight of him.

She was starting to feel a little dizzy. _Could it be?_

“Do you think… I mean, could Gendry be related to Robert?”

“It’s not impossible,” Stannis said with a sigh. “But it’s hard to know for sure. Gendry says he lost his mother when he was still quite young, and never knew his father. Apparently his mother didn’t even put the father’s name on the birth certificate.”

They were both silent for a moment. Sansa suspected they were both thinking the same thing. _Could Robert have fathered a son without knowing about it?_

“Well, it’s very kind of him to offer to do that,” Sansa said, seeking refuge in manners and politeness. Even in strange and overwhelming situations, in the face of startling, life-altering revelations, an awkward silence could always be filled with a polite word or two. Her mother had taught her that.

Stannis made a vague affirmative noise.

“How are - how are Joffrey and Myrcella taking it?” Sansa asked, not really caring about Joffrey, but including him anyway.

“Joffrey’s refusing to accept it,” Stannis said. “I haven’t seen him since the news broke, and I suspect he went to his mother. Myrcella is having a hard time of it too, I think. But she’s very quiet about it all. Renly’s been taking care of her.”

 _Poor Myrcella._ Sansa couldn’t imagine how she had to feel.

“And how is Tommen?”

“Cersei took him with her.”

“What about you?” Sansa asked, the urge to hug Stannis still strong. “Who is taking care of you?”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t sound fine, but Sansa didn’t feel up to starting an argument about the matter. “Just… don’t forget to eat, okay?” she said instead, channeling her mother some more. _It’s important to keep one’s strength up in a crisis._

There was a huffing sound on the other end of the line. “I won’t.” To Sansa’s relief, Stannis sounded a lot more like himself. “Are you coming south tomorrow?” he then asked, speaking a little too casually to disguise the buried note of hope.

“Of course,” Sansa hurried to answer, suddenly remembering that she had news to share, too. Not life-altering news, but still news. “Dad is coming as well. He wants to be there for Robert. Sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but the news about Joffrey and Myrcella sort of -”

“I understand. You and your father are welcome to stay at Robert’s house.”

Sansa knew that Stannis and Renly were both staying at the house while Robert was in hospital. Storm’s End and Dragonstone were too far away.

“Thank you, that would definitely simplify things,” she said, though she realised a second later that it might also complicate some things. Would she and Stannis be able to share a room if her father was staying in the same house? Would her father expect them to sleep separately? And how was she supposed to behave around Stannis with her father watching? Might there not be… awkwardness?

Sansa pushed the questions away. She’d figure all that out later.

“I look forward to seeing you,” Stannis said, his voice low and soft in a way it only ever got when he was talking to her. Her heart fluttered at the sound of it.

“I look forward to it, too,” she whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

***

Sansa looked out the window without seeing the scenery fly by. She was hyper aware of her father, sitting next to her on the train and calmly perusing a newspaper. They hadn’t said anything for half an hour, and the only things they had said to each other at the train station in the Vale where they had met, were the usual pleasantries and practical things about which train they needed to catch, the tickets, the luggage, and the seats.

She wished he would ask her questions about what was going on in her life like he always asked Robb and Arya.

“Is something bothering you, sweetheart?” her father asked at length, folding his newspaper and fixing her with a curious look.

Sansa realised she had been tearing her ticket receipt into tiny little pieces, and that her lap was littered with the rubbish. “No,” she said, brushing the mess into her palm and looking around for a rubbish bin. She couldn’t see one. “I’m just… worried about Robert.” She wasn’t. She was worried about Stannis, and she was worried that her father would never be as interested in her life as he was in her siblings’ lives.

“I’m sure he’ll pull through,” her father said, giving her an encouraging smile. “You should have seen him when we were young. I don’t think I’ve ever known a more strapping young man.”

Her father never talked about his years in the Vale very much, but when he did mention them, Robert’s name always came up. Robert and whatever girl he had been chasing that week.

“Yes, but Stannis said he needs a new liver, and that sort of surgery is always a risk.”

“What else did Stannis say?”

Sansa filled her father in on everything she knew. He had known most of it already, but some of the details made him frown.

“I’m sure Stannis will be able to tell you more when we see him,” Sansa said in the end, when her father had started asking her questions she couldn’t answer. The subject of Joffrey and Myrcella and their parentage remained a bit of an unmentioned elephant in the train carriage.

Her father looked at her in silence for a long time, seemingly deep in thought. She was almost sure he was about to ask her something, so she held her breath and waited.

“You and Stannis... “ he began, trailing off and looking down at his hands. “Are you still, er - what do you kids say? - ‘going strong’?”

Sansa could almost see the air quotes, and she suppressed a smile.

“Yes, we are,” she said, thrilled beyond words that her father was actually showing an interest.

“And you’re… happy?”

“So happy,” she said, a wide smile stretching the muscles of her cheeks to the limit.

Her father examined her face carefully for a moment and then nodded. “I’m glad to hear that.”

There was a short silence, broken only by the sound of the train speeding over the tracks and the murmur of a few other conversations taking place in their carriage.

Her father cleared his throat. “Er, how’s school?”

Sansa bit her lip and wondered whether she should tell her father about what happened with Professor Baelish.

 _It will only make him worry,_ she decided, pushing the memory of it away. It barely upset her anymore, anyway. It was in the past, it would never happen again, and there were so many positive things she wanted talk about instead. 

So she smiled again, and launched into a story about Randa’s latest misadventure, and how Sansa had ended up standing outside the dorms in her pyjamas, carrying a potted plant and trying to explain to the disgruntled students around her that the fire alarm hadn’t been meant to go off, and that Randa was probably really sorry -- wherever she was.

“Why the potted plant?” her father asked, the corners of his mouth twitching and a nostalgic gleam in his eyes.

“I couldn’t leave Sebastian inside,” Sansa said indignantly. “What if there had actually been a fire?”

“You named the potted plant?”

“Of course.”

Sansa went on to talk about her books and her classes, about Professor Tyrell and how glad she was that he didn’t seem to be anything like his ‘It Girl’ sister, about the the bakery in the Vale and how it didn’t compare to the tiny one on Dragonstone when it came to making lemon cakes, and how much she missed Mum’s lemon cakes, which were of course the best in the world. He listened and listened, giving her his full attention, and continued to smile nostalgically every now and then.

It was _wonderful._

***

After everything that had happened in the past week, Stannis was highly aware of the fact that meeting his girlfriend’s father did not really rate very high on the crisis meter, but he felt incredibly uneasy about it nonetheless.

_Good to see you, Ned. Are you aware that your daughter calls us both ‘daddy’?_

He stood very still as he waited for the Friday evening train to arrive from the Vale, and stared at the screen with the arrivals information, trying to keep his thoughts from going where they kept going.

 _It’s none of his business,_ Stannis told himself. _He’s never going to find out because it has nothing to do with him._

Meeting Ned, knowing that they both knew that Stannis had slept with his daughter, was always going to be awkward. Even if Sansa only liked conventional sex, it would still have been awkward.

_It will be fine. You’re a grown man, not a schoolboy. You can handle this._

And it was fine. Mostly.

Sansa picked him out of the crowd almost as soon as Stannis caught a flash of her hair, and she had her arms around his neck a second later. He kissed her without thinking, needed the comfort of her affection after the long, long, _long_ week he’d just lived through, and didn’t even stop to think that Ned might be nearby. It wasn’t until the man cleared his throat politely that Sansa ended the kiss and took a step back.

Stannis shook Ned’s hand, and it was about the most uncomfortable handshake he had ever experienced. Ned looked him squarely in the eyes, taking his measure.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Ned,” Stannis muttered. “I’m sure Robert will be glad to see you.”

That was an understatement. Robert had lit up like a Christmas tree when Stannis had told him that Ned would be coming to visit, and seemed much more excited by the prospect of seeing his old friend than he was by Stannis’ and Renly’s daily visits.

“It’s nothing,” Ned said gravely. “Sansa tells me that a liver donor has been found?”

Conversation flowed smoothly after that, the subject of Robert’s illness and the fact that his children weren’t biologically his carrying them all the way from the station to the house.

Stannis was still processing it. His niece and nephews had none of his blood. Yet, he couldn’t say that he had been surprised when it came to light. The children had all been Lannisters through and through from birth. Tommen hadn’t been tested yet, but Stannis was sure he’d be the same.

In a way it was a relief to know that Joffrey was not a relation, but Stannis did feel a twinge of loss when he thought of Myrcella and Tommen. He had never been close to them, but he could remember sometimes watching them as they played when they had been younger, and once Myrcella had run to him - the only adult around - crying about some scrape, and he had been the one to find her a plaster. She had thanked him very sweetly, and in that moment, he had actually felt like an uncle.

He didn’t know what he was to her and her little brother, now.

“How did Robert take it?” Ned asked as they carried the luggage inside, Sansa following along and paying close attention to the conversation. She hadn’t said very much on the road, but Stannis could tell that she had been listening.

“He doesn’t know,” Stannis admitted, noticing Sansa’s surprised reaction. Ned’s expression remained grim.

The doctors had advised against Robert being told. Aside from his liver being destroyed due to extensive cirrhosis, his heart wasn’t in any kind of good condition, and the doctors feared that the shock of such news would kill him. Stannis explained this.

“He will have to be told eventually,” Ned said. “Once he’s out of the woods.”

“Of course,” Stannis said stiffly. Joffrey would need to be disinherited. Stannis would make sure of that.

“Will it be possible to see him tonight?” Ned asked, glancing at his watch.

“Robert once donated an entire wing to the hospital; we can visit him whenever we like,” Stannis said, checking his own watch. _Ten o’clock._ “However, he’s probably asleep by now. I suggest we wait and visit him tomorrow.”

Ned nodded.

“I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Stannis made sure to show Sansa to her room first - the same one she had stayed in before - so that Ned would see that Stannis was definitely not going to be sharing a room with her. Sansa didn’t say a word about it. All she did was thank him politely, and smile at her father. When Ned wasn’t looking, however, she winked at him. He wasn’t entirely sure why.

When Sansa stayed behind in her room to unpack and Stannis carried on with Ned, he realised that he’d inadvertently left himself alone with Sansa’s father, and tensed up.

They walked in silence until they reached one of the best guest rooms. Ned quietly put his luggage on the floor and fixed Stannis with a searching look. “Sansa seems happy,” he said at length.

“Good,” Stannis said, crossing his arms.

There was an awkward silence.

“I’ll be… displeased if you hurt her.”

“I don’t intend to.”

Another silence. Stannis couldn’t stop thinking about Sansa’s voice, sultry with arousal, calling him _daddy._ His face felt uncomfortably hot.

“Good,” Ned said, mirroring Stannis’ stance.

Stannis sensed that he was dismissed, and turned around and left.

_Good talk._

***

Sansa waited until the house was quiet before creeping to Stannis’ room. He was mad if he thought she’d just stay in a different room by herself when he was _right there._

Stannis’ door was unlocked, and she slipped inside noiselessly. He was in bed, but he wasn’t asleep. Instead it looked like he was reading something on his laptop. 

“Sansa? What are you doing here?” He closed the laptop very quickly.

“I want to sleep with you,” Sansa said, already diving under the covers. Her feet were cold.

Stannis flinched a little as she wormed her icy toes up the legs of his pyjama bottoms, putting them into contact with his warm calves, but didn’t pull away. “Your father -”

“My father knows I’m an adult.”

“Yes, but -”

Sansa kissed him, cutting him off.

Knowing that her father was in the house just made what she was doing all the more exciting. She had never tried to sneak a boy to her room at the house in Winterfell, but feeling the thrill she felt now, she sort of wished she had.

“Dad won’t even suspect,” Sansa said when the kiss broke. “You don’t have to worry.”

Stannis examined her face. “Why don’t you think he’d suspect you’d want to sleep with the man you’re in a relationship with?”

Sansa felt a little thrill. _Relationship._ She liked that word. “Oh, you know… I’ve always been the good girl. Mum and Dad never had to tell me off for anything. I just… I just always wanted them to be proud of me, so I tried to make them happy.”

“I’m sure they must appreciate that,” Stannis said, stroking her cheek.

Sansa shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Stannis raised a brow. “Don’t you know?”

“Mum tells me that she’s proud of me all the time,” Sansa said, trying to deflect Stannis’ attention. She didn’t want to talk about how her father felt about her.

“And your father?”

Sansa closed her eyes and sighed, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I - I’m sure he’s proud of me, too.” _I think._

_I hope._

She had never wanted her father to be anything but proud of her, and had always done her very best to be everything he expected her to be. Unfortunately, being good had never garnered her very much attention from him. A smile here and there, perhaps a hug if she was lucky. She had cherished those moments. Craved them.

Today, during their train ride to King’s Landing together, she had probably talked more to her father in one sitting than she ever had in her life. She still felt warm just thinking about it.

She’d thank Robert for bringing it about if he survived his surgery.

“You don’t sound sure,” Stannis said doubtfully.

Sansa really wasn’t in the mood to discuss this, so she cut him off and changed the subject. “What were you doing?” She nodded at the computer.

Stannis flushed. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Not reading the news or checking your email?” She grinned and popped the screen back open.

_Oh._

Stannis sighed. “You never finished reading me that story,” he explained grumpily. “I just wanted to know how it ends.”

It was the Labyrinth fanfic she had started to read to him on Dragonstone.

“How did you find it?” she blurted out, not knowing whether to laugh or stare in disbelief.

“I googled a few sentences I remembered,” he muttered.

A giggle bubbled up before she could help it. “And - and do you like it?”

“Its prose is a little flowery for my taste,” Stannis said, frowning. “But I suppose it’s an interesting enough story.”

“Interesting?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

His face, still a little flushed from before, reddened more deeply. “Fine,” he huffed. “The sex scenes are well done. Happy?”

“Very,” she said, cuddling up to him and letting her hand wander south. “Do you want to keep reading?”

He made a startled sound in the back of his throat when she reached his cock. “What? Now?”

She hummed, and started to stroke him. She had gone under his waistband, seeking bare skin. He felt just as hot and heavy in her hand as always, and she found herself in the mood to keep going just like this. Just like that first time.

“You want me to read while you’re doing that?” His voice had deepened, and he sounded less startled and more intrigued now.

She hummed again and kissed his neck.

“What if I would rather touch you?” he asked, his voice lowering still more.

“Later,” she murmured in return, finding a comfortable rhythm and settling into it, enjoying the way it made Stannis let out a soft groan.

“Read it out loud to me,” Stannis ordered, closing his eyes.

A pulse of arousal traveled through her at the commanding note in his voice, and she hurried to comply.

“Jareth looked at his prize, trussed up in his bed, helpless and at his mercy, and considered his options,” she read, her breath hitching a little when she realised Stannis had reached the bondage scene. Bondage was something they had never tried, but it was something Sansa thought she would let him do, if he wanted.

She read on, trying to make her voice sound aristocratic and arrogant when Jareth spoke, and stubborn and headstrong when Sarah responded.

_”This would be so much easier if you did not resist me.”_

_”How dare you touch me? You have no power over me!”_

_”Oh, but I have all the power, my queen. All of it.”_

Sansa knew that at this point in the story, Sarah and Jareth had already had sex a few times and that they were just playing, but she liked the idea of their game, and found herself breathing more deeply… more slowly.

Stannis groaned, and Sansa realised that while her breathing had slowed, her grip on his cock had tightened, and her hand had sped up.

She read on, describing the way Sarah pouted and struggled against her bonds, and the way Jareth teased her nipples and pushed one long finger after another inside of her, taunting her about the way her thighs were forced open due to the magical restraints.

By the time Jareth was pushing his cock into her and tormenting Sarah with the idea that he might just keep fucking her for hours without letting her come, Stannis was thrusting up into Sansa’s hand and breathing very loudly.

_”Please, Jareth! Just let me come, oh, please!”_

_”Patience, my queen…”_

“He pulled out of her and wrapped a hand around his cock, tugging on it a few times and then letting himself come all over her breasts while she squirmed around and sent him indignant glares. She was deliciously unfulfilled and aching for him, her cheeks flushed and pink. He smiled a little cruelly and stood up, conjuring a crystal,” Sansa read, squirming a little herself, feeling quite a bit of sympathy for Sarah.

Stannis made a strangled sound, and his body jerked violently beneath her. Her hand suddenly felt very warm and very wet.

She stopped reading. She knew what would happen next. Jareth would pretend to leave Sarah, tied up and covered in come, but he’d return as soon as she started to shout at him, and fuck her until she passed out from the intensity of her orgasm.

Once she and Stannis had cleaned up and returned to bed, Stannis started to kiss her, his hands roaming to her breasts and tweaking her nipples.

“Have you ever wanted to try that?” he asked in a hoarse voice as he climbed on top of her, letting his thigh rub her intimately between her legs.

“Try what?”

“Being tied up.”

Sansa thought back to her first ever sexual fantasy about Stannis, her stomach fluttering. _Definitely._ “I don’t know. Maybe,” she said, feeling herself blush.

He kissed her, and they got too distracted for much conversation after that. She did moan rather loudly when he pushed his cock inside her, but Stannis placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

“Wouldn’t want to wake your father, sweetheart,” he whispered, his hips thrusting forward in a way that made her eyes roll into the back of her head.

That was the last coherent sentence that was spoken that night.

***

Stannis glared at his tea, feeling bitter and annoyed.

When Stannis and Renly had brought Ned to visit Robert, the first thing Robert had done had been to kick his brothers out so that he could talk to Ned alone. That had been half an hour ago. Robert usually never talked to Stannis for much more than five minutes before complaining that he needed his rest.

It wasn’t that Stannis really wanted to talk to Robert all that much, but it just didn’t seem _fair._

“Bad tea?” Sansa asked, sidling up to him and kissing his cheek.

Most of his irritation melted away at once, replaced by the very pleasant memories of his night with Sansa. A brief flare of heat shot through him as his mind filled with vivid images of covering Sansa’s mouth and fucking her into the mattress.

“It’s fine,” he said, kissing her in return. They were in a little sitting room near Robert’s hospital suite, and the only other person in it was Renly, and he was absorbed by something on his phone. Myrcella hadn’t felt up to visiting today.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night,” Sansa whispered, stroking his arm and giving him a look that could only be described as _naughty._

Stannis glanced at Renly, but his brother did not appear to be paying them the slightest bit of attention. After Renly’s initial amusement at the fact that Stannis had started to date his ‘nurse’, he had gone back to doing what he had been doing for most of his life: ignoring Stannis’ existence.

He recalled Sansa’s shy response when he’d asked her about bondage, and felt a flutter of arousal. “I’m thinking about it too, sweetheart,” he said, liking the way Sansa’s eyes tended to darken on the rare occasions when he called her that out of bed.

But this time her eyes didn’t darken. They widened, and she went as pale as a ghost. She was looking over his shoulder at something.

_No. Please no._

“How was Robert, Dad?” she squeaked, clearly attempting to sound normal but failing utterly.

Stannis stiffened, but made himself calm down. Ned couldn’t have overheard anything very incriminating. Stannis had just called Sansa ‘sweetheart’. It was a harmless, affectionate endearment. He turned around to face Ned, keeping his face blank.

“Well, he’s in a lot of pain... _sweetheart_ ,” Ned said, his voice cool and pointed.

Stannis felt a little like his innards were all liquidising. _Of course that’s the endearment Ned uses for her. Of course._

“Poor Robert,” Sansa said, sounding a little more like her usual self, though she was still a lot paler than normal.

There was a weighty, drawn out silence that felt eternal to Stannis. Ned was staring at him in a way that made him want to sink into the ground and never resurface.

“The doctors say they will likely operate in a few days,” Ned said at length, still staring at Stannis.

“Good,” he choked out. “Excuse me.” 

He fled to the corridor.

Without really deciding to go there, Stannis walked to the men’s room. He went to the sinks and splashed cold water on his face, and tried to breathe evenly.

_It’s a common endearment. Ned doesn’t have some sort of monopoly on it. I can call Sansa whatever I want as long as she’s okay with it. This isn’t the end of the world._

Stannis tried to listen to the calm, reasonable voice in his head, but the panicked voice that was running around and shouting that Ned had to _know,_ would not be silenced.

_He can’t know. He can suspect, but he can’t **know.** He won’t know unless Sansa or I tell him, and we’re obviously not going to do that. It’s a private matter, and none of his business._

For a moment Stannis couldn’t help but put himself in Ned’s shoes. _What would I think, if I were him?_ He’d probably think that it was rather upsetting that his daughter’s lover was calling her by the same endearment as her father. But he doubted he would immediately leap to the conclusion that there was anything… unusual going on.

Perhaps ‘unusual’ wasn’t the right word. _Unconventional?_

Stannis did not mind the fact that Sansa seemed to seek slightly unconventional things in bed - in fact, he enjoyed it thoroughly - but he had been wondering where it stemmed from. He had already suspected quite strongly that Sansa’s relationship with her father was at the root of it, but after the things Sansa had told him last night about wishing to make her parents proud, and how she was uncertain of how her father felt about her, he was almost completely convinced. Whether she admitted it or not, Sansa was clearly struggling with some issues when it came to her father.

He wondered if he should encourage Sansa to try to work on those issues in a different way. Was it healthy for her to seek the praise in comfort she clearly wanted from her father from him instead?

Was it healthy for him to enjoy giving it to her?

Stannis splashed some more water on his face, and feeling a little calmer, though still restless, he left the men’s room.

Sansa was standing outside.

“That was so awkward,” she said, biting her lip and shooting him a worried look.

“Yes,” he said flatly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispered, looking at the floor now and sounding small. “I meant to, but it just didn’t seem that important, and then I just forgot you didn’t already know, and - and this is all my fault.”

Stannis closed his eyes for a breath and opened them. “I’m not following.”

Sansa looked up at him, guilt in every line of her face. “I never told you that Dad calls me sweetheart sometimes.”

He waved a hand impatiently. “I should have guessed. No need to apologise.”

His response seemed to cause her guilt to deflate, or at least dissolve into confusion. “You’re not mad?”

Sansa’s expression was somehow woeful, uncertain, and oddly tempting all at once, and healthy or not, he knew _exactly_ what she needed.

Without giving it a second thought, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “How could I ever be mad at you, sweetheart?”

She melted into the embrace, and made a soft little noise that tugged at his heart.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, nudging her cheek with his nose.

Sansa shivered, but before he could ask if she was cold, she had stood up on the tips of her toes and kissed him passionately. He made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, but kissed her back, enjoying her enthusiasm a little more than he probably should.

***

Sansa sat in biggest living room of Robert’s villa, pretending to read, but mostly watching her father whenever she thought he was too absorbed in his newspaper to notice her looking. Renly was playing cyvasse with Myrcella on the other side of the room, and Stannis was next to her, working on his laptop.

Her stomach was unsettled, and it was not due to the large meal the cook had served them for dinner.

She had stopped breathing when her father had overheard Stannis call her sweetheart, and her stomach had gone into knots that were still tangling her up. She had never meant for her father to hear something like that. The expression on his face was seared into the backs of her eyelids. He had looked shocked, and almost _angry._

Her father had _never_ been angry with her.

She wasn’t entirely sure what she would have done if Stannis hadn’t comforted her the way he had. She had been so frightened that he’d be angry with her too, but he had somehow known exactly the right thing to say. 

He’d said precisely what she would have liked her father to say. 

Sansa sighed. Maybe Randa had been right about the ‘daddy issues’.

She wanted to make things right with him, but unfortunately, her father had barely spoken a word to her since the hospital. It was so _unfair._ They’d had such a good time on the train together, and now she was dreading the trip back tomorrow.

_I have to fix this._

Gathering her courage about her, she stood up. Stannis shot her a curious look, but she smiled at him and told him her eyes that everything was fine. He searched her face for a moment, returned her nod, and went back to work.

She took a deep breath and walked over to her father’s armchair. “Dad, can I have a word?” 

He looked up slowly, and folded his paper. “Is everything all right?” he asked mildly.

“Yes, I just - I just want to talk for a bit. Can you come to the kitchen with me?”

The sleek, modern kitchen was empty at this time of day, and Sansa walked over to the cupboard with the tea things, plucking tea leaves, strainers, cups, and teapots down. Her father helped her make tea without saying a word, and they settled down at the posh kitchen table that no one except the staff ever used.

It took a fair few fortifying sips of tea, but eventually she found her courage. She took a deep breath, and with a determined set to her shoulders, she looked her father straight in the eyes and asked the question that had been weighing on her all day.

“Dad, are you mad at me?”

“Mad?” her father raised both eyebrows. “Why would you think that?”

“You’ve barely spoken to me today.”

“Sansa,” her father frowned, “my oldest friend might be dying. I’ve had a few things on my mind.”

Sansa bit her lip. “Is that the only thing that’s bothering you?” she asked, feeling like her father was using Robert’s illness as an excuse.

Her father sighed and stirred his tea. “What do you want me to say?” He was still frowning. “I’m obviously not thrilled that Stannis is infantilising you the way he seems to, but -”

“Infantilising me?” Sansa interrupted, feeling appalled. “You think he’s infantilising me?”

“The way he called you sweetheart at the hospital,” her father said, grimacing. “It didn’t sound like a lover’s endearment to me. He’s - he’s not your father, Sansa.” Her father’s face was a little redder than usual.

“It _was_ a lover’s endearment,” Sansa argued, feeling herself redden, too. “He doesn’t say it the same way you do. It’s different.”

They were both quiet for a little while, and the atmosphere was crackling with awkwardness.

“I love him, Dad,” she said when she couldn’t stay silent and drink her tea anymore. “And I love you, too. But it’s not even a little bit comparable.”

Her father stared at her, looking uncomfortable and at a loss. She stared back, begging him with her eyes to tell her that he loved her back.

“I - I see,” he said, sipping his tea and looking at a point somewhere over her left shoulder.

“Dad?” She forced her voice not to shake, but she still sounded much more vulnerable than she wanted to sound. “Do you love me?”

Her father fumbled with his teacup and spilled a little on the table. “Sweetheart, of course I love you,” he spluttered, blinking at her in shock. “How can you ask me that?”

“Well, you never say it,” Sansa said, mumbling the words down at the table.

“Is that what all this is about?” her father asked, reaching across the table to touch her chin briefly, nudging her until she looked up at him. “I may not say it very often, but I love you and all of your siblings very very much, Sansa.”

She blinked back a sudden wetness in her eyes and nodded.

“And - and I’m glad that you’re happy with Stannis. I really am.”

She wiped at a tear that had escaped, and tried to choke back a sob that somehow turned into a laugh. “But?”

“But he _is_ my age, Sansa. And he’s…” her father grimaced, “not unlike me, in many ways.”

“I know he’s not you,” Sansa said, understanding where her father was taking this. “I’m not trying to make him you.” _I’m not._

“Well, that’s good.” Her father shifted in his seat, looking like he very much wanted to run away from the conversation.

Sansa took a deep shuddering breath. “All I’ve ever wanted to do it make you proud. You and Mum both,” she said, searching her father’s face. He looked a little startled.

“We _are_ proud of you,” he said, blinking rapidly, his brows knitting together. “Gods, Sansa… You’ve never been anything but a source of pride and joy to me. I thought you knew that?”

Sansa was blinking too, but it was not out of confusion. More tears were trying to escape, and she really didn’t want to start crying. She’d never stop if she started now.

Her father rose from his seat and pulled her up for a hug.

It was too much. She couldn’t blink the tears back anymore, and a little hiccough of a sob escaped.

Her father tightened his arms around her, and started to pat her a little awkwardly on the back. “Sansa… sweetheart, don’t cry…”

But she couldn’t help it. The emotional upheaval of the last week was catching up with her, and the comfort and the safety of her father’s embrace was something she always craved. Her tears were happy as well as sad.

Eventually there were no more tears, however, and they sat back down. Her father stared at his cold tea while she blew her nose on a paper napkin. Sansa was sure the awkward silence that followed would chase him away, and she sat with her muscles all tense, bracing herself for his inevitable departure.

But he didn’t go. He stayed. He stayed, and they poured fresh cups and drank more tea. After a little while he even asked her to tell him how Sebastian the plant got his name, and Sansa almost started crying again from relief. They talked hesitantly of inconsequential things as they finished their tea, and though it wasn’t quite as nice as the time they had spent together on the train, Sansa felt as if the air between them was clear.

“By the way,” her father said as they put the used teacups in the sink, “you and Stannis don’t have to pretend to go to sleep in separate bedrooms on my account. I’m not your mother.”

Startled, Sansa giggled nervously. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said, regaining her footing quickly. “I’m waiting until marriage.” She paused. Then, with an angelic smile she added, “just like you and Mum did.” Sansa had a very strong hunch that her mother and father had _not_ waited until they were married. Robb was born eight months after the wedding, after all.

Her father just shook his head, his lips twitching with amusement. But Sansa did not fail to notice that his cheeks were tinged red.

***

Sansa cuddled up to Stannis, sated and happy despite all the sweat they were both covered in.

“We have got to do that again sometime,” she sighed happily, closing her eyes and wriggling a little.

“Which part?” Stannis asked, still a little out of breath.

“Mmm, all of it.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

She smiled, and blew out a long satisfied breath. They shared a comfortable silence.

“What did you discuss with Ned, earlier?” Stannis asked after a while, his breathing back to normal and his voice soft.

“We just straightened some things out,” Sansa said, still feeling warm and wonderfully certain of her father’s love. “He was worried I was just with you because you’re a little like him.”

“Are you?” Stannis asked, dragging his fingers through her hair.

“Of course not,” Sansa said, laughing a little. 

“That’s good to hear,” Stannis murmured, kissing her temple. “As much as I enjoy our… games… I’m not interested in taking Ned’s place in your life.”

“You could never do that,” Sansa said at once. “What I need from you and what I need from him are completely different things.” It was all so wonderfully clear to her, and she didn’t feel ashamed of it in the least.

He kissed her again. “So, why are you with me?” he asked, half serious, half joking. It was a little weird; he rarely tried to joke around.

Sansa smiled against his neck. “I’m with you because you see me. All of me.” She paused, and they both took a few breaths. Stannis tightened his hold on her a little. “... And also because you like it when I read lurid romance novels from the internet to you, and because you punched out the competition, of course,” she added, wanting to lighten the mood again.

Stannis huffed out an amused breath and gave her bottom a light squeeze. “I already told you. I was only protecting what’s mine.”

They kissed, and Sansa wondered whether it was possible to feel any more satisfied with life than she felt in that moment.

“Stannis?”

“Yes?”

“If I’m yours, does that mean you’re mine, too?”

Stannis kissed her again. “Of course.”

“Good,” she whispered, feeling her insides melt and take on the consistency of warm goo.

Clearly it _was_ possible to feel more satisfied with life, but Sansa wasn’t sure how much more she’d be able to handle. Her heart might just explode.

She smiled at the thought.

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a long-ish epilogue. It will be set a few months after the events of this chapter, and that will hopefully tie up any remaining loose ends. But the emotional journey of the story is now pretty much at an end. I hope you enjoyed the ride, and I'll add some proper end notes when I post the epilogue. Love you guys! ♥


	24. Epilogue

Stannis pulled over, knowing that once they drove around the next bend, the old Baratheon manor would come into view.

“Why are we stopping?” Sansa asked, giving Stannis a surprised look as he parked the car in the small parking space on the side of the road. There was a sign with information for tourists, and a bench for eating packed lunches.

“I thought we’d walk over to the viewing platform. You can get pretty good pictures of Storm’s End and the ocean from up here.”

They weren’t exactly on the side of a mountain, but this was certainly the highest point for miles around.

“Sounds, great!” Sansa smiled and got her camera ready. “Let’s go.”

Stannis kept his eyes fixed on her face as they rounded the bend on foot, keeping to the slightly uneven path next to the road. The look of awe that overtook her at the view of his childhood home made his heart swell and beat a little faster in his chest.

“Oh, it’s beautiful…” she sighed,her camera forgotten in one hand. She seemed riveted by the ocean. The sun was setting, and the sky was a riot of colour which the sea reflected as it stretched its way to the horizon. The faint sound of waves lapping at the shore could be heard, and somewhere in the distance a seagull cried out 

They stood and enjoyed the view in silence for several minutes.

“You really grew up here?” Sansa asked.

“Yes,” Stannis said, looking closely at her face, drinking in every last bit of her awe and excitement.

“Is that the manor?” she asked, pointing at the stately house that was practically built on the edge of a cliff.

“Yes,” he said again. “What do you think of it?”

“It looks a lot more hospitable than your house on Dragonstone,” Sansa said, giving him a sidelong glance. She sounded a little apologetic.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Stannis took one of her hands and brought the palm to his lips for a kiss. “What would you think of living there?”

Sansa blinked at him, startled and a little dazed. “The two of us? There?”

He nodded, his heart pounding in his throat.

“But - but I thought Renly lived there,” Sansa stalled, confusion in her voice.

“I didn’t tell you because you’ve been so busy with your thesis and graduation, but Robert and I have decided to make a few changes.”

“What sort of changes?”

“We’re reviving the Storm’s End branch of the family business, and I’m to be in charge of it. Renly and Loras have decided to move to Highgarden.”

“What about the King’s Landing branch?” Sansa asked, furrowing her brow. “What about the house on Dragonstone?”

“Robert will take care of all that,” Stannis explained, trusting that his brother would do just that. Robert’s trials and tribulations over the past months had changed him. The hospital stay might have been enough on its own to get him to straighten himself out and go to rehab, but there had been much more to it.

The toxicology report that the doctors had ordered performed had shown some fairly sinister results. Sinister enough for the doctors to start suspecting that Robert had been the victim of an attempted murder. The dregs from the bottle Robert had been drinking the night he had nearly died were tested, and the results confirmed that the wine had been poisoned. The police had ended up involved, and the detectives had soon gathered enough evidence to charge Cersei with the crime. The case was still tangled up in the court system, lawyers on absurd salaries having it all out, and though Stannis thought it was highly unlikely that she would ever end up behind bars, Cersei was at least disgraced in the eyes of society.

Not that she had needed to poison Robert to disgrace herself. The news that Robert’s children weren’t his had spread like wildfire when he had disinherited them all, and though Myrcella and Tommen had handled it well enough, Joffrey and Cersei had not. Cersei had been reasonably mature, Stannis supposed. She had tried - unsuccessfully - to fight the decision using her army of Lannister lawyers. Joffrey, on the other hand, had posted a video of himself spewing a hateful rant online, and was subsequently arrested for making criminal threats.

Stannis had been worried for a while that all these scandals would cause trouble for the company, especially when Petyr Baelish had sold a sob story to the press about Stannis getting him fired and punching him to boot -- failing to mention the reasons why, of course. But he needn’t have concerned himself. Robert had managed to get the press on their side without too much trouble by telling the newspapers his story of woe, and - to Stannis’ great surprise - sticking up for Stannis. Baelish ended up discredited, and Robert ended up being viewed by the public as a sort of sympathetic hero. There had even been a televised interview with him on a respected talk-show where he had discussed his rise from the ashes.

And Robert had certainly risen from the ashes in rather an impressive way. He had stopped drinking, gone to therapy, received a speedy divorce, started to actually carry his weight at work, and even taken the first steps towards a relationship with Gendry, who as it turned out, was Robert’s illegitimate child.

If it weren’t for the fact that Robert still rolled his eyes whenever Stannis tried to talk to him, and still followed anything in a skirt around with his eyes - and usually his prick, too - Stannis would hardly have recognised him.

He had even started going to the _gym._ Apparently, Gendry had convinced him.

Stannis still thought he was an ass, despite all that.

Sansa interrupted Stannis’ thoughts by throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly, pressing the entire length of her body against his.

“Of course I want to move to the manor with you!” she exclaimed, her voice so high-pitched that it was almost a squeal of delight.

He hugged her back and kissed her with everything he had, trying to tell her without words how happy she had just made him.

Sansa looked a bit dazed when they parted, her eyes shining.

“Good, because that’s where we’ll be staying to celebrate your graduation,” Stannis said, a strong feeling of satisfaction settling in his belly. “You’ll be able to take the measure of the place and let me know if you want anything redecorated.”

“I’m sure it will be lovely,” Sansa said, smiling so widely that it looked like it might actually hurt a little.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Stannis scoffed. “You’ve seen the way Renly dresses. His tastes are highly dubious.”

Sansa laughed and kissed him again.

***

Sansa bit her lip as she considered the contents of the little box she had ordered. It had seemed like such a good idea to purchase it when she had been half asleep and half-mad due to the stress of trying to get her thesis written on time. She had thought that it would be nice to have something like this to look forward to; something exciting to do on her holiday with Stannis after graduation.

Well, now she had been staying at the Baratheon manor in Storm’s End for three days, and she still hadn’t plucked up the courage to show Stannis the contents of the box. To be fair, she really hadn’t had much time to work with during the past three days. Ever since Stannis had asked her to move in with him - she still couldn’t quite believe it - there had been so much to _do._ And time always seemed to fly by and disappear when she was with Stannis, but Sansa wasn't worried about it. She felt like they had all the time in the world, and the future felt wide open and inviting.

_Tonight’s the night,_ she decided. _It’s not that big a deal. We’ve done stuff that’s a lot more kinky…_

“Sansa?”

Sansa hurriedly hid the box behind her back and smiled as Stannis entered the bedroom. It was a really nice bedroom. Sansa might want to paint it a less flamboyant colour, but the furniture was all well designed and beautiful, and she was pretty sure she wanted to marry the thick rug the bed stood on. It was soft and fluffy, and when she had her feet bare she sank almost to her ankles.

“Are you going to sleep?” he asked, looking at her in mild surprise.

Sansa looked down at the silk nightgown she had donned. It was much nicer than what she usually slept in, but then, she had put it on to seduce Stannis, not to sleep in it.

_You can do this,_ she told herself, and took a deep breath. “No, I just decided to slip into something more comfortable,” she said, giving Stannis a look that was hopefully sexy.

Stannis’ eyes darkened, and he started to look at her properly, letting his eyes linger on every curve of her body. She felt the first tingle of arousal, and her worries faded away. _This will be fun._

“Do you want to get comfortable, too?” she asked, biting her lip. She had noticed a long time ago that Stannis liked it when she bit her lip.

Stannis didn’t answer her. He just started to undress. She watched, feeling increasingly aroused, as more and more of his body was revealed to her.

She had thought that he had been fit when she first started nursing him, and he had been, but he looked so much better these days. It had very little to do with his muscles or his fat percentage, however, and everything to do with how much happier he was. He scowled less, and there was a healthy vitality - a lust for life - in every line of his face and every movement he made. He no longer seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the bitterness that had so often been present in his eyes when she first got to know him was hardly ever there anymore.

“What have you got there?” Stannis asked, advancing on her covered only by his boxer briefs, though they didn’t do a very good job of disguising his arousal.

Sansa’s heart was pounding, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she made herself show Stannis the box.

“A vibrator?” Stannis said, his eyebrows climbing. “Flavoured lubricant?” His eyes were dark and glittering with lust, however, so he didn’t seem displeased.

“And silk ties,” she said, her voice a little breathless. “For - I mean - if you want - to tie me up.”

“You want me to tie you up, sweetheart?” Stannis asked, his voice deepening. “Tie you up and tease you with this?” He picked the vibrator up and examined it. It was just a little bullet one, and it looked even smaller once it was in Stannis’ large hand.

She nodded, her face feeling hotter, and her arousal more overwhelming. Her nipples had pebbled all on their own, and she was already feeling the need to squeeze her thighs together.

“I think you will have to strip for me first,” he said, stroking her cheek and bringing his thumb to her lips. She kissed it.

He took a step back and raised an eyebrow. _Well?_ he seemed to say.

She pushed a lock of hair behind an ear and gave him a shy smile. Then, moving slowly and deliberately, she pushed the thin straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, causing it to reveal her upper body. The nightgown didn’t fall to floor since it clung to her hips, but a little push and a wriggle had it pooling at her feet. She was only wearing a matching set of black, lacy silk panties now. She gave Stannis a hopeful look, wanting very much to know what he thought of them.

“The panties too, sweetheart,” Stannis said, his eyes telling her everything she needed to know. The pupils were almost completely blown out with lust.

He never seemed to get tired of looking at her, and Sansa knew she would never get tired of the way he looked.

She pushed the panties down to her ankles, and stepped out of them. She guessed that he’d want her to get on the bed next, and started to move towards it.

“Did I tell you to move?” Stannis asked sharply.

She froze, and held her breath.

He started to circle her, his eyes burning a path from her face to her breasts, and then lower. He didn’t touch her, but her skin prickled and the fine little hairs on her body rose in response to the intense gaze.

“Are you sure you want me to tie you up?” he asked in a low, hoarse whisper. “Expose you to my every whim? Make you helpless to resist?”

She nodded a little frantically and squeezed her thighs together.

“One the bed. Face up.” 

First he tied her wrists together and then he secured the loose end of the silk tie to the headboard. He didn’t really provide her with a lot of room to maneuver, but that was the whole point she supposed. When he moved to her left ankle, she let out a small noise of surprise.

“Something to say?” Stannis asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Sansa hadn’t realised he’d want to tie her feet up too, but she decided not to object. The prospect was a little scary - she’d be completely helpless, after all - but she could feel herself growing wetter at the idea of being denied the possibility of closing her thighs or resisting in any way.

Not that she wanted to.

Still, she whimpered a little when he forced her to spread her thighs wide and took away the tiny bit of relief that she had been gaining by squeezing them together.

He hovered over her once he finished tying her up, his head directly above hers. “Good girl,” he said, kissing her once.

She arched her back and tried to push herself up so that their bodies would touch, but he rolled off at once and sat beside her. “Already breaking the rules?” Stannis asked, his voice deep as sin. “Will I have to start by punishing you?”

“No, please, I’ll be good,” she said, already breathing a little hard.

“Perhaps I will let it slide,” Stannis said thoughtfully, “I haven’t told you the rules, after all.”

She waited, her entire body tense and hot and _ready._

“There are only two rules,” Stannis continued, “you must lie as still as you possibly can until I say otherwise, and if you want something, you must ask _nicely._ ”

Sansa’s throat went a little dry. _He’s giving me a taste of what it was like,_ she realised. He was giving her a sense of what it had felt like for him when he had still been in his casts and she had told him that she wasn’t at his beck and call. That he had to ask nicely if he wanted anything… sexy. They had played this game before, but not quite like this. Not with her tied up.

She nodded to indicate that she understood, and felt her stomach swoop as Stannis settled himself more comfortably by her side. What was he planning to do?

At first he did nothing but look at her, seemingly taking a great deal of pleasure in the view. And then he started to stroke himself through his underwear, his eyes lingering on her breasts and her exposed sex.

She wanted to squirm, but she was supposed to lie still. She wanted to beg him to touch her, but it seemed a bit pathetic to need him as much as she did already. She bit her lip and gave him an imploring look.

He ignored it. Instead of reading her mind and touching her, he continued to stroke himself, his eyes roaming all over her body.

Stubborn pride welling up, she decided that she wouldn’t beg him to touch her. Not yet. He was bound to get bored with just looking. He wouldn’t be able to resist fondling her when he got a bit carried away. She could wait him out.

After a little while, Sansa thought that her plan was working. Stannis stood up and removed his boxers, letting his cock free. It looked rather a lot like Sansa felt: high-strung, wet, twitching, and eager. The tip of it was glistening with precome, and Sansa’s lips parted involuntarily as she imagined his reaction were she to lick it.

But Stannis didn’t touch her. He just kept stroking himself, giving her a much better view since he had sat down in a very strategic place.

A little whine escaped her, but she cut herself off, trying to keep silent.

“If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is ask nicely,” Stannis said after a while, his hand moving up and down his cock slowly -- almost lazily.

She pouted at him.

“Sweetheart. You know what pouting gets you,” Stannis said, standing up again.

She didn’t have a lot of time to wonder what he was doing. He was straddling her shoulders before she could form a coherent thought, and pressing his cock to her lips.

“Open,” he ordered.

She opened.

He tasted salty on her tongue, and he gave her a good long while to appreciate the taste. He didn’t try to force himself in very deep, and seemed pleased when she licked him clean of every trace of precome. She didn’t mind doing this for him, but it was strange to do it in this position. Strange and thrilling. He could do anything he wanted and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. He could push himself in deeper than ever if he chose, and she’d just have to take it.

But he didn’t. He just made her lick and suck the head of his cock, never forcing himself any deeper.

“Good girl,” he murmured after an eternity. He pulled back and sat down next to her again.

“Please,” she said, feeling too needy to be stubborn anymore, “could you touch me?”

Stannis touched her lips with the tip of a finger and trailed it down over her chin, down her neck and between her breasts. He paused. “Like this?”

“Please, more,” she begged, resisting the urge to twist her body and bring a breast into contact with his warm hand.

He pinched a nipple, making her gasp. “Like this?”

“Yes, yes, please yes, more like that,” she babbled, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the throbbing ache between her thighs.

He used both hands on her after that, fondling her breasts and pinching her nipples, ignoring his cock in favour of teasing her.

She tried to remain still. She really did. But her body was overwrought with need, and she couldn’t help but arch her back and chase his fingers.

He took his hands away. “Good girls don’t break the rules, sweetheart,” he said, his tone strict.

“I’m sorry, please don’t stop.” She almost pouted at him again, but caught herself just in time.

Stannis picked something up from the box on the nightstand and straddled her chest. Sansa watched him a bit apprehensively, wondering if he was going to make her suck him again. But then she saw that he was holding the packet of flavoured lubricant, tearing it open. He dribbled the clear gel-like stuff between her breasts, and smeared it around a bit. It was cold at first, but warmed quickly. He used both hands to cup her breasts, pushing them together, and then he pushed his cock between them. Due to the lubricant, he slid and slipped easily against her skin, and he made a noise of pleasure as he moved, fucking her cleavage.

He had never done that before, and Sansa honestly didn’t know what to think of it. It did absolutely nothing for her, and she should probably find it a bit demeaning. But honestly, all it was doing was turn her on to a ridiculous extent. Especially since he was looking down at her with his dark eyes, daring her to challenge him.

She closed her eyes and moaned, giving herself over to it all.

Stannis rewarded her by brushing his thumbs over her nipples, and she moaned again, more enthusiastically.

After a little while, he made her lick his cock again. “Does it taste nice?” he asked.

It tasted sweet due to the flavoured lubricant, and Sansa nodded in between licks.

Once he was clean, he sat down beside her again, and reached for the box. “I think you deserve a reward now, but only if you ask very _very_ nicely.”

She saw that he had picked the vibrator up, and almost lost all control of herself. She wanted him to use it on her so _much._ But somehow she managed to keep still.

“Please, please,” she begged, “may I please have a reward?”

He tilted his head to the side, seemingly considering the matter. He hummed, apparently unconvinced.

_Gods, this is how he must have felt… helpless and dying for my touch…_

“Are you sure you want it?” he asked.

Feeling herself blush, she went all in. “Yes! Please, daddy, _please?_ ”

The toy in his hand came to life, and a soft buzzing noise filled the room.

After the long wait, it almost felt painful when Stannis touched the vibrator to her clit. Her body jerked involuntarily, and she gasped.

“Too much?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice. he moved the toy a little. “Better?”

She nodded frantically. It was _amazing._ She felt like she might come within a minute. _Why haven’t we played with a vibrator before?_

Stannis started to move the toy around gently, and Sansa did her best to tell him what she liked. Mostly she just moaned, getting louder whenever he did something she _really_ liked. Having Stannis do this was so different to doing it herself. She couldn’t predict where he was going, and she couldn’t control how long he stayed in each place. It meant that she could only ask him to have mercy whenever the sensations became too intense. Sometimes he was merciful. Sometimes not.

It hadn’t been very long at all when her first orgasm hit, and Stannis definitely didn’t listen to her squeals of protest when he kept the vibrator locked in place, sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure tearing through her. No matter how she arched her back and squirmed, he kept the toy in place, tormenting her with pleasure.

By the time he finally relented, she was panting, and her entire body felt flushed and sweaty.

“Did you like your reward, sweetheart?” he asked, letting a single finger glide over and between her folds. It was a gentle, lazy sort of touch, but it almost felt like too much to her hypersensitive nerve endings.

“Yes. Thank you.” It never hurt to be polite.

He slipped a finger inside, all the up to the knuckle, and observed her face as he did it. She tried not to betray too much, but couldn’t really help herself. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, a small needy noise escaping her.

“Good?” he asked, his voice all rough and raspy now.

“Yeah,” she whined, hoping that he’d slip another finger inside. One was just not enough for her in the state that she was in.

As if he’d read her mind, he pushed another finger inside. “Better?”

She made a wordless sound of affirmation and tried to push against his hand, needing him to move, needing friction.

He hummed thoughtfully. “Clearly it’s not good enough for you.” He pulled his fingers out. “Why don’t you tell me what you need?”

“You _know,_ ” she whined, shooting him an imploring look. “ _Please._ ”

“I _don’t_ know. Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” she said in a rush, her cheeks burning.

“With my fingers?” Stannis asked, stroking her and smearing her wetness around.

“No - I need -” her voice cracked, and she bit her lip.

Their eyes met, and the air in the room felt so charged that Sansa half expected to see sparks.

“Do you need daddy’s cock, sweetheart?”

The tension she hadn’t realised had been keeping every last muscle in her body taut, flowed from her, and she moaned in relief. “Yes, please. Please.”

He was on top of her in a flash, guiding himself to her entrance. “You know you only ever have to ask,” he murmured into her ear, pushing inside in one smooth stroke.

It didn’t feel right. Tied down the way she was, she couldn’t angle her hips in quite the right way. Stannis frowned down at her, obviously sensing that she wasn’t enjoying it properly.

“Wrong angle?” he guessed, his right hand reaching for the tie that kept her hands secure to the headboard. He undid it, and now that she wasn’t stretched between the headboard and the foot of the bed, it was possible for her to scoot down and angle her hips the right way. Her wrists were still bound together, however, restricting her freedom.

When everything locked into place just _perfectly_ , she let out a deep, shuddering breath. “Gods, Stannis… It’s so good.”

He grunted, and judging by the way he had squeezed his eyes shut, he was not up for any verbal communication at the moment. Feeling wicked, Sansa clenched her inner muscles. He opened his eyes to glare at her. He didn’t keep them open, however, he closed his eyes and started to thrust, getting his revenge by fucking the breath right out of her lungs.

It started out slow and deep and hard, but soon he sped up, and the thrusts became a little more shallow. She was still so sensitive from the way he had teased her with the vibrator that every time his body smacked up against hers it felt electric, and soon she was clenching up inadvertently, on the verge of coming again.

“Yes - please, just like that,” she babbled, needing him to just keep going, just keep… going…

He didn’t keep going in exactly the same way, though. He changed things a little, keeping his thrusts quick, but fucking her a little harder. 

It was exactly what she hadn’t known she needed.

“ _Stannis!_ ” She tried to say more, but she couldn’t make any more words. Everything just came out in an incoherent, ecstatic jumble.

“Fuck, Sansa…” he groaned in return, following her over the edge, judging by his increasingly erratic thrusts.

She wished she could wrap her legs around him and make him stay forever, but even if her ankles weren’t bound, she doubted Stannis would tolerate being forced to stay in one place for quite that long. Even if it was his favourite place.

She couldn’t help but pout a little when he slipped out of her and rolled to the side.

The atmosphere in the bedroom soon became as tranquil as it had been charged moments ago, and as their breathing calmed, Stannis freed her wrists, and then her ankles.

They cuddled for a while, enjoying the quiet and the warmth.

“Did you -”

“Yes,” she said at once, not waiting for him to finish the question. “I really liked it. Did you?”

“I think you know perfectly well that I did,” Stannis said, kissing her temple. “And not to be ungrateful, but I’m curious; where did you get that box?”

“Online,” Sansa said. “I’m not sure I could just walk into a sex shop and buy something like this. I’d be too worried that someone would see me and recognise me.”

Stannis hummed. “I may have to change my mind about the internet.”

“I thought you already had?” Sansa said, smiling against his chest. “You certainly seem to like it when I read certain stories for you.”

“I suppose it has its uses,” Stannis said, his lips twitching.

Sansa tossed her head back and laughed.

***

Stannis watched Sansa laugh and thought about the ring he’d hidden away. Her eyes would put the gemstones to shame, but he hoped she would like it anyway.

 _Tomorrow,_ he decided.

He smiled.

**Super really the end this time.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this story, and to those of you who commented and left kudos - you get extra thanks and hugs and eternal love! ♥
> 
> Special mention to [Tommyginger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/pseuds/Tommyginger) for helping to inspire a lot of what happened in this story, and for being an amazing cheerleader. You're the best, Tommy!
> 
> Another special mention to [sansafeels](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sansafeels/pseuds/sansafeels), who made some really wonderful graphics for this story. Thank you!
> 
>   
> 


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